Second Chances
by tini243
Summary: They loved and they lost. Their lives are in ruins. Will they fight for a second chance? JR, MC
1. The Prophecy

**A/N:** Okay, since it's taking forever to post "Back to You" I'm starting to post this one which I had planned to post after "Back to You". This one's is mostly written, I only have to do some last minute editing to have the chapters out, so it shouldn't take any time away from the other. I've just learned that there is a dangerous shortage of living JR WIPs and we can't have that now, can we? ;)

**A/N2:** The idea to this story is based on Phoebe's prophecy in 'TO after Vegas'. The prophecy is quoted in the text (Italics). It will be pretty rough going for a while for all characters, but keep in mind that I'm a sucker for happy endings, so please hang in there.

**Genre:** Angst, Romance, AU

**Pairing:** JR (duh!), MC (quite a lot of it)

**Disclaimer:** Well, yeah, I own those guys and make loads of money by writing fanfic about them. Except not.

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**Second Chances** **Chapter 1: Dinner with Prophecy**

New York, 2009

When he walked into the elegant restaurant, the polite smile of the receptionist greeted him, as always.

"Good evening Mr. Adams, your table is ready and Mrs. Philangi is already waiting for you."

Joey smiled to himself and unobtrusively slipped a generous tip into Mr. Silverman's hand. This man made sure that he could spend at least one evening a month in privacy, not bothered by fans or the press.

It was his monthly ritual. Having dinner with Phoebe, talking about their lives. It was the only thing that felt normal in his screwed up life. Which was the reason he was clinging to it, despite the fact that he probably should be at home right now.

Resolutely he pushed the thought of what he would find when was back home out of his mind and made his way to the private room where they had prepared the table for him and Phoebe.

Lately, it wasn't always easy to talk to her. Since her divorce from David, she had become bitter, cynical even. That cynicism, much like Chandler's, was surely the reason that between both of them, they relentlessly tried to convince him that he should leave his wife, to end it for his own sake and for the sake of their two children. For that reason alone, he didn't spend much time with Chandler anymore. His divorce hadn't done him any good either, although Joey had the impression that Chandler tried to pull himself together lately.

The only person who supported him in his refusal to end his marriage was Monica. He saw her almost every week, every time he brought his children to her place. And although Monica was the one who more than anyone else knew what he was going through, she told him he shouldn't give up just yet.

"Joey, you two are so in love with one another. If you guys get divorced too… I don't know, then there is no love left in the world."

She was always so sad when she said that, so sincere, for her alone he would try to salvage what was left of the love between him and his wife.

Sighing he opened the door and stepped to Phoebe, embracing her for a while. When he stepped back to look at her, he had to resist the urge to check if his face was not smeared with black mascara, deep red blusher and lipstick, or the wildly colored eye shadow she wore. Formerly known for her decent makeup and imaginative hairstyles, now Phoebe's choices for makeup and hair were mostly completely over the top, loud and shrill. Much like she herself behaved. Still, he hadn't given up hope that the woman he adored and loved was still somewhere under all those layers of color and hairspray.

"So good to see you Pheebs, how you doin'?" he asked with forced lightheartedness.

"I'm great. I mean, why wouldn't I be?" she asked sarcastically. "What about you? You look awfully tired."

One thing, though, had not changed; she was still awfully perceptive.

"Had a rough night," he mumbled, half hidden behind the menu.

Phoebe sighed dramatically. "What, did she fall asleep in the back yard again and was half frozen by the time you found her and took her to the hospital?"

Joey bit back a sharp reprimand for her derisive tone, aware that it would fall on deaf ears anyway, and instead explained in a detached monotone, neither wanting nor asking for pity or compassion. "No. She fell down the stairs. Hit her head. Blood everywhere. I took her to the hospital."

His voice cracked a little at the last word. Too many of his marital episodes had that ending. Of course, that hadn't escaped Phoebe either.

"They probably have a room reserved for her by now, don't they?" she said with a snort.

This time, he couldn't stop himself from saying, "That's not funny, Pheebs."

With enough force to upset the two glasses of water standing on the table, Phoebe slammed both her hands palm down on the table and leaned in, staring at him intently.

"That's my point, it's not. It stopped being funny a long time ago. You can't do this to yourself any more."

With another sigh, he hid even further behind his menu that by now he could have recited from memory.

"Phoebe, we're not having this discussion again."

As usual, Phoebe didn't budge easily. This discussion, unfortunately, was also part of the ritual.

"Joey, I know you don't want to hear this, but maybe it's better for you and your kids to leave her. She obviously doesn't want your help, you've done enough."

Tears shot to his eyes when the fleeting memory of how he had found her yesterday suddenly invaded his brain. His exhaustion sure wanted to agree with Phoebe. But there was something he clung to even in the bad times, and usual he used it as a rebuff.

"Phoebe, I can't just leave her, she's Ally and Tyler's mother, and she's my wife."

Phoebe leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. As far as that discussion went, that was usually the end of it. But Phoebe had a nasty smirk on her face that didn't bode well for what she was going to throw at him next.

"Are you sure that she even wants to be that any more?"

Joey gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut at the painful stab that hit him right where it hurt the most. He knew exactly what Phoebe meant, and even if it was shockingly cruel of her to bring it up like that, she was probably right. He had married a woman who had been in love with someone else. Not that she had ever told him so or anything. On the contrary, before they had started to go out, before anything had really happened between them, she had made it clear that no other man had a place in her heart.

For years it had looked like that had been the truth. They had been happy. So happy, it sometimes scared him because he felt like that much happiness was supposed to come with a price. But nothing bad happened. They married, they had their kids, his career kicked into high gear, everything was picture perfect.

But then the one thing happened that marked the beginning of a downward spiral that seemed to have no end.

Ross's death.

After a heated argument with Phoebe about evolution, Ross had had a heart attack that killed him on the spot, just like that. And regardless of what anyone else said, Phoebe believed that she had killed him. The memory of the funeral was a blur because everyone including himself had been bawling the whole time. He had almost fallen down a few times while carrying Ross's casket, because his tears blurred his sight so much, he couldn't see the way.

A month after Ross's death he had to take Rachel to the hospital because something that had started as a normal menstrual flow had developed into a life-threatening bleeding.

She came back a different woman.

Everything seemed to make her cry; she could barely look at him any more without starting to tear up. They stopped having sex because she always found another excuse to turn him down.

He didn't need to be a psychic to see the connection. It was Ross. For as long as he was around, she had probably always thought they had another chance. Now that he was dead, this chance had been gone for good and she realized she had married the wrong man.

It broke his heart but he still tried to convince himself that maybe she could get over this, that things could be like they were before. He couldn't bring himself to believe that his time of happiness was over.

But then the drinking started. Over the course of two years, his wife had turned into a raging alcoholic. She'd lost her job because she couldn't even make it through a whole workday any more without a drink. Now she was just hanging around at home, more or less constantly wasted. And there seemed to be nothing he could do about that, as much as he wanted to.

When the lump in his throat gave way to speech again, he tried to make it clear that this part of the conversation was truly and indisputably over. "Look, Pheebs, I don't want to talk about this any more, all right?"

Surprisingly enough, Phoebe relented. "Okay, let's talk about someone else. You know, I met Chandler last week."

His eyes went wide with surprise. It was more than strange for Chandler to just walk around in broad daylight where he could bump into people. Having had his brush with fame just like Joey had, he was just as tired of fans and photographers as he was. The astonishing news finally loosened his tongue and gave him leverage to throw Phoebe's theories about the healing faculties of divorce out of the window.

"Really? See, I know I didn't want to talk about this, but Chandler and Monica are the very reason I think leaving Rachel isn't going to be what you think it might be. Because those two had nothing in common any more, they were so over, everyone thought them getting a divorce was the clear break they needed, but look at them now. They're so hung up on each other, it would be funny if it weren't so sad."

Phoebe shook her head decisively.  
"You can't compare them to you, Joey. Their problem was money, yours is alcohol."

Joe felt on high ground. "That doesn't matter. It's a problem, it's solvable. Somehow. I just haven't figured out how."

A smirk appeared on Phoebe's face again. "Do you think Monica and Chandler just didn't try hard enough?"

It was an unfair question, but he had an answer to that one.  
"It all happened so fast. I mean first Chandler is unemployed and barely able to pay his rent, then out of sheer boredom he starts writing and suddenly he is this big famous best selling author who doesn't know what to do with all his money."

"Rachel and you adjusted to being rich, too."

"Well, you know Rachel, she never had a problem with spending money."

"Yeah, now she just liquefies it," Phoebe said with a humorless chuckle.

"Phoebe!"

Suddenly Phoebe seemed the one interested in giving the conversation another direction.  
"Anyway, I visited Chandler and we started to talk and one thing led to another and… now we have a date next Saturday."

Joey couldn't believe he had heard her right. "You what?"

"I'm dating Chandler."

"You can't date Chandler! He's in love with Monica."

Phoebe inspected her two inch long, blood red nails with meticulous interest. "He's divorced from Monica," she said as if the fact needed further clarification. Then she looked up at him and said with a malicious smile, "And who are you to talk, you married Rachel."

Another sharp pain uncoiled in his heart and rendered him unable to speak for a while. This time, there was no way to hide his pained grimace from Phoebe. A quick flash of compassion crossed her face only to be replaced by bored disinterest a second later.

It was a breaking point. Joey just knew he couldn't play that game anymore, couldn't pretend she was his old friend, when she was someone he hardly knew anymore. Who twisted the knife under the pretence of caring for his well-being. He decided that he was going to make or break them right now, he had no strength left for anything else.

"Phoebe, what is up with you lately? This is not you."

Her mask of indifference shattered in an instant and she glowered at him furiously.

"Oh yeah? Let me tell you something. You're rich, so your wife is too. Chandler is filthy rich and Monica had a really good divorce. I was married to a penniless scientist and my divorce left me with less than I had before. So what if I'm dating Chandler, what if I marry him? I want to be rich too."

He was stunned for a moment, but at least, the question of money was something he felt he could deal with.

"Pheebs you know if you ever need any money…"

Her voice became unnaturally shrill when she screamed the next words at him. "I don't want charity!"

"But you want to marry Chandler for the money?" he yelled back, equally furious.

In this moment a very cold feeling crept up his spine. He'd heard that already. This whole scenario suddenly seemed eerily familiar. Like an echo, like some sort of déjà vu Phoebe's words from almost ten years ago came back to him.

_**First Chandler and Monica will get married and be filthy rich by the way. But it won't work out. Then, I'm gonna marry Chandler for the money and you'll marry Rachel and have the beautiful kids. But then we ditch those two and that's when we get married. We'll have Chandler's money and Rachel's kids and getting custody will be easy because of Rachel's drinking problem. I have words with Ross and I kill him.**_

"Oh my God," he whispered, too afraid to move or speak out loud.

"Oh my God," his whisper was echoed by Phoebe, who was white as a wall, visibly even under all her makeup.

Joey buried his face in his hands and felt like throwing up. "You've known all that?" he mumbled into his hands, "You knew this would happen?"

"You knew it too, I told you."

It was a ridiculous defense and if he wasn't so shocked, he would've laughed.  
"I forgot about it ten minutes after you said it. I thought it was a joke."

Phoebe was trembling violently and he had to look twice to believe that tears were actually filling her eyes.  
"Joey, please. It _was_ a joke. Do you think I would've let that happen if I had had the slightest feeling this was how things were gonna turn out to be?"

She looked at him pleadingly. Tears were now running down her cheeks, leaving black trails of mascara on her face. Nausea swamped his gut. Pressing his napkin to his mouth, he scrambled to his feet and stumbled towards the bathroom.

By the time he reached the restroom, his stomach, probably because it was empty, had stopped turning and so he just leaned over the sink, breathing heavily. When he looked up into the mirror, he saw a man who looked as if he had seen a ghost.

He found the table empty when he came back, but his fear that Phoebe had just left proved to be unfounded, when she came back a few moments later. She had cleaned her face and taken a few of the atrocious decorations out of her hair. She almost looked like the old Phoebe again, a sight so comforting all of a sudden, that he gave her a little, shaking smile.

She spoke before he could ask her any questions.  
"Joey, what I told you back then, I made that up the very minute it came out of my mouth. I had no idea it had any meaning. But now I think that I have cursed us."

Just when he had thought it couldn't get any weirder. "What?"

Obviously, being her old self again, Phoebe had also found back to explaining the most ludicrous things as if anyone should understand them.

"See, I was telling you how stuff would happen. It was a joke, but now God was like 'What Phoebe Buffay, you think that's how it's gonna be? Well then, this is how it's gonna be and when everything is totally screwed up I will make you remember your careless words and then you'll be very… very sorry."

He chuckled with the sudden wish to ridicule every word she said. There was no way he could deal with something monstrous like that if there was any truth to it. "You mean you don't want to marry Chandler any more? Or me? Now I'm hurt."

If she had understood his sarcasm, she didn't react to it at all.  
"God Joey, no. I don't know what I was thinking. I don't know myself any more. This has changed me so much. It has changed all of us. I mean, you're on the verge of giving up on the woman you love more than anything. Rachel is giving up on herself. Monica is giving up on her dreams of having a family. Chandler is giving up on being happy. And Ross… Ross is dead. This so isn't how it's supposed to be and it's entirely my fault."

It sounded logical enough, but he just had to refuse to believe it.  
"Phoebe I… don't think it is. Bad things happen sometimes."

"And it doesn't seem weird to you that I predicted this ten years ago?"

He rubbed his temples, wishing he'd be anywhere else but here. Home would be nice.  
"You've always done pretty weird stuff."

"Ah ya? Stuff like ruining all my friends' lives?"

"Pheebs…" he said, shaking his head.

In contrast to his tiredness, Phoebe was brimming with an immediate energy that was exhausting just to look at.

"I've gotta go Joey. I have to find out how I can turn that around somehow, how I can make things better."

She had already jumped up at the last words and carelessly shrugged into her leopard-skin coat.

"Pheebs wait!" he called after her without much conviction.

Turning again, she gave him a purposeful smile, almost a happy one.

"Joey, you have to let me do this, please. It's for the best of all of us."

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tbc 

I hope you liked it. Review if you did and let me know if you think I should continue to post this. Also, this chapter is partially unbeta'ed, if someone finds any mistakes, drop me a PM and let me know, I'll correct it at once.


	2. Pouring

**A/N: **Alright, here goes the next chapter.

**

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Chapter 2: Pouring **

When Joey pulled into the driveway of the large two storey house they lived in – Monica insisted on calling it a mansion, which it wasn't – the house lay quiet. He knew by now that this wasn't necessarily a good sign.

To his immense relief, though, no catastrophe had occurred while he was away. The nanny told him that nothing out of the ordinary had happened and Rachel hadn't been out of her room once during the whole evening.

When he had said good night to the nanny and had sent her home, he went to look after Ally and Tyler and found them sleeping peacefully in their beds. Little Tyler was often haunted by horrid nightmares and slept in Joey's bed almost every other night, but tonight he seemed to be sleeping untroubled and deep.

Reluctantly as always, Joey then checked up on Rachel too, dreading where and how he would find her.

She was in what used to be their bedroom, curled up on top of the comforter, empty and half empty bottles all around her. With a few big steps he went to the window and ripped it open, greedily sucking in the fresh air. The stench of the room threatened to suffocate him. He pushed down a wave of nausea and stepped to the bed again, taking the empty bottles and putting them on the ground.

Marcia would probably curse again when she saw the mess she had to clean up. Maybe he really should give her the raise she always lamented about.

To keep Rachel from getting too cold while the window was open, he pulled out the comforter from under her body and haphazardly threw it over her. She still had her shoes on, but with how she stank right now, there was no way he would even consider touching her to get her out of her clothes.

He went back to the window to close it again, but then left it open a crack. The fresh air would probably do her some good. He leaned against the window frame to take a few deep breaths himself and with every breath of the cool, crisp night air, a pleasant calm settled over him.

A full moon stood in the sky, illuminating everything with a cold, white light.

Turning around to the sleeping woman on the bed, he studied her face. In the pale moonlight her face looked even more gaunt than usual. Her cheeks were sunken and her once shiny hair hung in greasy knots around her face. He rather not wanted to think about when she had washed it the last time. Or taken a shower. Or changed the sweats she was wearing all the time. This woman didn't even look like the woman he had married six years ago.

His wife had been a beauty other men had envied him for. Her charm, her wit, her grace, her style and her beauty had opened doors that had seemed closed to him forever.

After they had started going out, she had suggested going to a movie premier. Estelle, when asked, had even managed to get him two tickets. They had had a great time, he had met a few important people and talked to them. Rachel had taught him how to behave on events like those, what to say, what not to say.

It was a bit like acting and he got used to it. Amazingly enough, it was the start of a completely new phase in his professional life.

Sometimes he thought that Rachel had enjoyed this more than him. Being among stars and those who wanted to be, having glamour and fame around her had always excited her.

When he had had his first huge success in a drama series, when he had become a bankable and recognized star, Rachel had wholeheartedly embraced the changes that this brought for them.

Yeah, going with her to parties had always been fun. Until he had stopped taking her with him because she had started to embarrass him time and time again with her dissolute drinking.

He lied to the press about it. When asked, he claimed his wife stayed at home because she wanted to be close to their kids. It was a flimsy lie and everyone knew the truth anyway, but admitting it to the press would be like admitting defeat. And he wasn't quite there yet.

* * *

_The next morning_

"Bye daddy."

"Bye Allie."

"Bye daddy and give mommy a kiss from me when she wakes up," Tyler said, as every morning.

"I will," Joey lied, as every morning. "Bye Tyler."

They waved until the nanny had steered the car around the next turn and they were on their way to school and to kindergarten.

With an unusual spring to his step, he went into the kitchen. Although he had dreamt some weird things about Phoebe and prophecies and psychics, he had slept well and woken rested and fresh. His night, a noticeable exception, had not been interrupted by various emergencies or the patter of cold little feet running to come crawling under the covers with him.

Sunlight streamed red-golden into the kitchen as he brewed himself a cup of coffee. Fleetingly his thoughts touched on what had happened last night and he tried not to think about what it could mean that Phoebe had known all this ten years ago.

With a cup of coffee in his right hand, a fresh bagel in front of him, and a newspaper in the other hand, he sat down at the table. Reading the newspaper every morning was a habit he had started at first at Rachel's suggestion. She said that to know what people were talking about, he should at least read the headlines. Over time, the headlines had woken his interest in the whole article and ever since he had to eat breakfast alone, his daily newspaper was his silent companion every morning.

He almost spilled his coffee when, unexpectedly at this time of day, the door opened and Rachel came in, squinting against the sunlight.

"Did I miss them?" she asked in a clear voice, surprisingly different from her usual slur.

He had to bite back a deprecating laugh. As if she had ever seen their children leaving in the morning. At least not for about fifteen months. Still, it was unusual that she was up already. Usually she rolled out of bed around twelve, grabbed a few bottles and a bite to eat and holed up in the bedroom again.

"Yeah, they left about fifteen minutes ago," he answered, not taking his eyes off his newspaper.

"Damn," she muttered and it sounded a bit like there were tears in her voice, "I never even see them any more".

He said a silent prayer that it wouldn't be one of those days where she dissolved into self pity, only to drown it in even more alcohol.

"Poor me, poor me, pour me another drink," he muttered under his breath, while trying to hide completely behind the newspaper, wishing he could be invisible.

He heard a chair being pulled out and had the distinct feeling that she had sat down and was looking at him, obviously wanting him to turn his attention to her and talk to her, but willing to wait until he was ready to. Sighing he put down the newspaper eventually and looked at her.

She looked different. Better. From what he could tell, she wore fresh clothes and had even taken a shower. She had definitely brushed her hair, maybe even washed it.

"What?" he asked when she just sat there staring at him with eyes a little brighter than usual. They were still dull and lifeless compared to how they used to shine, but it seemed like there was a little spark in their depths.

She flinched a little at his harsh question, but at last she began to speak.

"How long do I have, Joey?"

The question took him by surprise. As did her tone. She had days when even he couldn't figure out any more what she was trying to say. This… this sounded a lot better, even if she sounded inexplicably sad.

"Until what?"

"Until you've had enough, until you leave me."

He couldn't stifle a pained gasp. Yeah, of course, sometimes, when it was so bad he just hadn't known what to do anymore, he had yelled at her, told her he would leave her if she didn't stop drinking. Asked her if that was what she wanted. But in the end, even when he thought about it, even when he tried to weigh the pros and cons, he could never actually see himself going through with it.

"I'm not gonna leave you," he said quietly, fighting the urge to hide behind his paper again, settling for just looking down at his hands.

"I'm a wreck. I'm a horrible mother, an even worse wife… you deserve better."

He looked up at her sharply. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No, of course not," she said, wide eyed. "It's just that… sometimes I ask myself why you're still here."

Although he had asked himself that question over and over again for almost two years, when he looked into her eyes, the answer was shockingly simple.

"I gave you a promise."

"A promise?"

It stood to hope that she hadn't lost the brain cells that contained that particular memory.

"Remember that big party we had, you in a white dress, me in a tux? I promised you to be there for you in good and in bad times. I figured these are the bad times."

She didn't say anything for the longest time. Just when he was about to go back to his paper and breakfast, she started to speak again dreamily.

"We had good times too, didn't we?"

He couldn't help but share this little nostalgic moment with her and smiled sadly. "Yeah. Yeah, we had a great couple of years."

When he saw the sorrow in her eyes, the regret, and the pain, he averted his gaze. He knew she suffered too. He knew she hadn't wanted it to be this way. But he dreaded what might come next. The promises, the vows that everything would get better, the futile attempts at getting over it, at staying away from the booze. He had seen it often enough to not fool himself into believing in that any more.

And there she goes again, he thought, when after a few moments she got up and went over to the fridge.

She took a full bottle of vodka out, then tucked it under her arm and grabbed two bottles of beer. He had long since given up on trying to get rid of the bottles that were stashed almost everywhere. For every hiding place he had found, she had two new ones he didn't know about. Now he only made sure that she kept the bottles out of the reach of the kids, though apparently some leftover motherly instinct still gave her the sense to see to that herself.

"Opulent breakfast today, Rach, huh?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Then he turned his attention back to his bagel. He had to get out of here fast before she was wasted again. The bottles clinked together when she placed them on the kitchen counter. The hissing of the beer bottles being opened made him roll his eyes with disgust. Soon enough the sickening smell of beer would be all over the kitchen and he would be out of there.

While Rachel had been pregnant with Ally, she had made him get rid off every bottle of beer they had in the house. The smell had made her sick.

Ever since she had started drinking, he was the one getting sick of the smell. The smell of every kind of alcohol made him so nauseous he hadn't drunk a drop of alcohol for over a year.

Behind him something was being poured somewhere. This was unusual. Rachel had started drinking right out of the bottle only three months after starting drinking. In her more lucid moments she had told him that this way, it didn't seem like she drank so much.

Too bad she never saw the empty bottles in the trash.

The pouring went on for a curiously long time. He rolled his eyes. She probably was daydreaming again and overfilling the glass, and then he would have to wipe the disgusting stuff away. He turned around hurriedly to control the damage, but when he saw what she was actually doing, his jaw dropped. She was pouring the contents of the bottles into the sink. She was pouring the booze away.

Before, when she had tried to quit, she kept her bottles. She had said she needed to face the temptation. Not surprisingly, it had never taken more than three days for her to succumb to it.

He had tried to convince her to attend at least one AA meeting, he had even secured her an appointment at the Betty Ford Center, but she had always gone ravingly mad at him when he told her something like that. She had accused him of having no faith in her, of not believing she would be strong enough to do it on her own.

Telling her once that he was convinced that she couldn't do it on her own had brought her down so terribly, he had to give the kids to Monica for a week because he hadn't wanted them to see their mother like that.

They knew that something was wrong, though. When Ally asked the first time why mommy was sick so often, he had burst into tears, terrifying his children beyond belief. After getting a grip he had tried to explain that yes, mommy was really sick, but no, she wasn't going to die like Tyler was afraid she would. Of course he hadn't told Rachel about this. Things wouldn't have changed anyway. If anything, it would've made it worse.

Meanwhile, Rachel had raided a few more of her hiding places in the kitchen and emptied a few more bottles into the sink. Then she opened the closet under the sink and pulled out a carton with washing-up detergent. It didn't surprise him that much that the actual content of the carton consisted of two little bottles of whiskey.

"I didn't know about that one," he said, trying to sound unfazed.

Rachel didn't even turn around to answer.

"You don't know about a lot of them. There are at least six more here in the kitchen."

"Six," he mused. After all, he had suspected he didn't know about all of them.

He continued watching her unscrewing bottles and getting rid of their contents, throwing the empty bottles in a large grocery carton. She didn't stop.

After a long while of watching he finally asked, "Need a hand?"

Now she turned and looked at him with honest surprise. "I thought the smell made you sick?"

"As long as we're getting rid of it," he shrugged, "it can't go fast enough."

"Okay, start with the living room, look under the couch and… behind the TV set… and behind the stereo…"

"What about the bookshelves?"

"I suspected you knew about the bookshelves. Just… look everywhere."

At the door he stopped and spun around again. "You know we can throw the full bottles away. I've never emptied them before throwing them in the trash."

She chuckled mirthlessly, while turning to face him. "I know. That's why I always knew where to look after you raided my hiding places."

Her careless admission shocked both of them to the core. There was no denying that she had hit rock bottom. There was no going lower than this. She turned back to the sink, pausing for a moment before she squared her shoulders, grabbed the next bottle and started pouring again.

After taking a few moments to pull himself together, he headed for the living room, determined to get this poison out of his house once and for all.

………

About four hours later they both collapsed on the kitchen floor, backs rested against the wall. Rachel had literally made him look everywhere, in every room of the house, even in the rooms of their children. To his immense relief, he hadn't found anything in there. They looked in the garage, in the cars, in their backyard. When they were convinced that not one single bottle was left, they had started to clean the kitchen, getting rid of the revolting stench, throwing the empty bottles in the trash.

Now they sat beside each other, exhausted and tired, but he couldn't remember when he had felt that hopeful the last time. He tried to play it down, to not get his hopes up too much, but this was so promising.

"It's a bit like after having sex," he said smiling.

"I don't even remember when we slept together the last time," she said sadly. "I guess that's because I was drunk."

"Yeah, you were," he replied, reluctantly remembering that night, "… and you threw up afterwards."

Rachel leaned her head back against the wall. "No wonder you didn't want to make love to me again."

"I wanted. Just not… like this."

During the ensuing silence he could sense her working up the nerve to ask him an important question.

"Did you ever sleep with anyone else?"

He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lower lip. This was nothing he wanted to discuss right now.

"Rachel…"

"You can tell me, I won't get mad. I have no right to. And I know about you and Charlene."

For a second he didn't quite know if he was relieved or horrified that she knew. He had thought he had been discreet. "Charlene," he began haltingly, "we made out a few times. Never slept with her, though."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. It always felt like I was just using her to get back at you, to punish you somehow. It just felt wrong."

She took his hand in hers and lifted it up a bit, looking at the ring he was wearing. "You're still wearing your wedding ring."

"We're still married."

"Yeah we are," she smiled, wriggling her fingers in front of his face, showing him her ring. Both their smiles froze on their faces however, when they noticed the way Rachel's hand was shaking. She probably hadn't had a drink in more than ten hours; she had to start feeling withdrawal symptoms already.

Rachel buried the traitorous hand in her lap and stared down on it. "I can't do this alone, Joe."

Joey had to fight back tears at hearing her say that. If only this meant that it would work this time. He cleared his throat a few times before he could speak again. "I still have the number of the rehabilitation clinic one of the doctors gave me when we were in the hospital two days ago. If you really want to…"

"I want to. I mean… I'm scared, but I want to."

"Then we probably should get going, these symptoms are not gonna get any better."

"I know, but… let's stay a while longer. We haven't talked for so long."

"Yeah… I've missed that."

"Me too. That and… a lot of other stuff. I miss having a job. I miss being Ally's and Tyler's mom. And I miss… being your wife."

This time he didn't contradict her because he knew what she meant. He slowly reached for the hand she had buried in her lap and enclosed it in his. He looked at her face until she lifted her gaze to him again.

"I still want you to be my wife. And Ally and Tyler don't want anything more than to have her mother back. We love you."

"I love you, too."

Now it was Joey who cast his eyes downwards.

"What is it, Joey?"

"What about Ross?"

"What about Ross?" she repeated the question without so much as batting an eyelash, apparently not understanding what he was getting at.

"This whole madness started after he died. What are you still feeling about him?"

Rachel stared at him open mouthed. Then she tried to say something, opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. "You… you think… you…"

With growing alarm he watched her trying to catch her breath, trying to get a grip. This could deteriorate really fast.

"Rach, calm down. You started drinking two months after he died; of course I thought it had something to do with him. That doesn't mean I blame you. I know what you felt for him and I was devastated too, I…"

"Joey, Joey …stop it! Please. Let me… let me tell you something. I was devastated and sad about Ross's death. But not the way you probably suspected. But the reason I started drinking…"

A pitiful wail tore itself free from her throat and she pressed her fist against her mouth to stop herself from crying. She succeeded after a while and continued in a tear-saturated voice. "I was pregnant, Joe. And the day I was gonna tell you, I started having this heavy bleeding, remember? When I was in the hospital?"

He froze and his brain plainly refused to process the torrent of new information crashing towards him.

"Yeah but… that was just that, bleeding, right?"

"No. I had lost our third child, Joey. They told me I can't get pregnant again. And you know how much we wanted to have another baby. I couldn't bring myself to tell you, especially with Ross and everything… I knew I would have to eventually but I couldn't… "

Joey heavily rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands.

"… and then at that one party when I drank too much, I discovered that being drunk lessened the pain, the guilt I felt for ruining this for us. This was when everything started. But with every time I got drunk, the guilt grew until it only became bearable when I was wasted. And after a year or so, I had no idea how to stop anymore."

Rachel was openly crying now, but she didn't stop talking. It seemed like everything she had felt for the past two years was pouring out of her like the alcohol they had poured away a few hours ago.

"Don't you think I knew how disappointed you were, how hurt?" she sobbed. "Don't you think I knew how disgusted you were with me? Don't you think I saw how our children became more worried with every time they saw their mother being hammered? I knew all of that, I knew I was failing all three of you, and I knew I was too weak to do anything against that."

"I can't believe you didn't tell me," he whispered into his hands.

"I can't believe you thought it was about Ross."

"I wouldn't have if you had told me what really happened," he said a little louder, looking up at her. But at the pitiful sight of her, he couldn't bring himself to be angry.

"I'm sorry, Joe," she whispered. "For not telling you, for ruining your life, our life, the kids' lives. I'm so sorry, so very sorry…"

Seeing her like this, dissolved into tears, weighted down by this intolerable heavy burden of guilt, he did something he hadn't done in months. He took her in his arms. And when she buried her face against his chest, sobs starting anew, his own share of guilt came into sharp focus.

"I'm sorry for doubting you… about Ross. But you have to promise me not to keep anything like this from me ever again."

"I swear I won't," she sobbed into his shirt.

For a few minutes they just sat there like this, him holding her, comfortingly stroking her back. Then he leaned down again and cautiously smelled her hair. He had been right about her having taken a shower and washed her hair that morning. Her hair smelled just the way he remembered. Vanilla and coconut – Rachel.

In this moment the feeling of having her back was almost overwhelming. He didn't try to fight the feeling of hope any more. The feeling that maybe this was the new beginning he had been hoping for.

* * *

tbc 

Reviews are always very appreciated.


	3. Visitors

**A/N: **Thanks for all the encouraging and thoughtful reviews. Next chapter is for all the Mondler fans out there. **

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Chapter 3: Visitors **

Rachel slowly shuffled to her room, feeling miserable. Lonely. She had lots of visitors in the clinic, more than anyone else. Joey came every day and he always brought Ally and Tyler. Phoebe was there, Chandler, Monica, her mother. But when visiting hours were over, when they left, she felt terribly lonely.

She had talked about that with her doctors but they thought it would be good training for her to face negative feelings like that without having the next whiskey bottle at hand as a solution. She supposed they were right, but that didn't make it any easier not to cling to Joey when he got ready to leave.

He always gave her a kiss when he came and he always kissed her when he left. Just a short kiss on the cheek, nothing more, but it felt like he was starting to be able to touch her again. She had scheduled an appointment with the clinics salon for the next day, she wanted to surprise him by having her hair done. It was about time she cared about her looks again.

When she entered her room, she jumped a bit as she saw someone standing at the window, looking out. Her father.

"Hi kiddo," he greeted her when he had noticed her coming in.

"Daddy!" she exclaimed, surprised.

She hadn't seen him in over a year. The last time she had seen him, he had told her that he couldn't watch her slowly ruining her life and he had never shown up again. He had always made sure to send presents for his grandkids for their birthdays and for Christmas, but that was about it.

He took a few huge steps and enveloped her in his arms. It startled her a bit since her father was never a man known for emotional outbursts of the loving nature. It made her cry nonetheless.

"It's so good to see you again, daddy," she said, sobbing into his shoulders.

"I'm sorry I gave up on you, sweetie. I shouldn't have. I know he took good care of you, but I should've been there too. I'm sorry."

They stayed in that embrace for a long time until he awkwardly pulled back and motioned for her to lie down. She crawled into her bed and smiled at him.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"A bit nauseous sometimes. Headaches, dizziness, shaking hands. And I'm almost always tired. But it gets better."

"What's your prognosis?"

"Well, apparently I'm a medical marvel, because I was consuming alcohol in enormous amounts for two years and it didn't do any permanent damage. I'm expected to make a full recovery."

Her father looked like he didn't believe a word she just said. "Really? I mean, this is so amazing but… unlikely. What about your liver? Your heart? Did they do an EKG? There has to be vascular damage. And an EEG? Are they sure everything's okay with your brain? Did they…"

"Dad, they took like a hundred of things that had curvy lines coming out of it, they took thousands of samples of every substance I have in my body and they said everything is gonna be okay if I never drink any alcohol ever again. The liver thing seemed to have freaked them out too, because they say the tissue is starting to regenerate which, as I understand it, doesn't usually happen."

"Well, they're right. But if yours is regenerating, I'm not complaining. I have a hard time believing it, though."

"You can talk to the doctors here. I guess they can explain it to you a lot better than I can," she said with a shrug.

"I will do that. I'm going to make sure that Ross Geller hasn't managed to ruin your life from out of his grave."

Rachel gaped at him for a second before she managed to speak again. "Does everybody think that was about Ross?"

"It was pretty obvious. I really felt bad for that husband of yours. You're lucky you're still married."

"Dad, I had a miscarriage a month after Ross's death. They told me I can't get pregnant again. That's the reason I started drinking."

"Did Joseph know that?"

"No… he didn't. I told him a week ago. Before he brought me here."

"But… why?"

"I don't know. The longer I think about it, the more the reasons for not telling him evade me. God, I messed up so bad…"

"Hey, kiddo. Remember what I always used to say when I taught you to sail?"

"Greens don't quit?"

"Yeah. But just for the record, I'm glad you did. This takes a lot of courage."

………

"Aunt Monica, Aunt Monica!"

Monica could hear her godchildren's cries before she even saw them. A moment later, two unleashed bundles of energy flew into her arms.

"Hi Ally, hi Tyler, how's your mom today?"

"She's fine. Doctors say she has to stay in the hospital for another two weeks and then she can come home again."

"Really? That's good to hear. So where's daddy?"

Right on cue, Joey appeared, slightly out of breath and looking at her apologetically.

"I'm sorry Mon, the moment I said 'Look there's Aunt Monica' there was no way to stop them. They love to visit their mother, but sitting in that room for too long makes them go crazy."

"I can empathize. So Rachel's coming home in two weeks?"

"Yeah, she is," Joey said, smiling happily.

Monica smiled widely at hearing that and gently caressed Joey's cheek. "I'm so happy for you guys. You deserve your second chance."

Joey expression turned serious again and he looked at her intently. "Everyone does, Mon."

Monica shook her head dejectedly and turned her attention to the kids pulling at her hand. "So, wanna come to my place tomorrow? I'm making brownies."

"Yeah, brownies! Please daddy, can we go to Aunt Monica's tomorrow? Pretty please?"

"Okay, okay. But only if you don't give me a hard time tonight when it's bed time, okay?"

"We promise."

Joey rolled his eyes dramatically. "I wish they would keep that promise just once."

They gave each other a short peck on the cheek and Monica cuddled the children for a while. Then they said goodbye and Monica headed for the entrance of the clinic. Before she opened the door, she turned around again, watching Joey walk away with Tyler on his shoulders and Ally on one hand.

Who would've thought that Joey Tribbiani of all people would turn out to be a caring and committed father and husband, when the man she had chosen to spend her life with turned out to be such an immature egomaniac?

Thinking about Chandler always sent a painful jab through her heart. She had almost grown used to it. The divorce had been one year ago but they had been thinking about it for a lot longer.

It had started when that first book Chandler had written turned out to be this huge success. Apparently, writing best selling novels ran in the family.

Suddenly Chandler was an artist. Everything was judged by how it would affect 'his writing'.

And Chandler was rich. Now that they had enough of it, money seemed to be the most important thing in the world. 'Oh Monica, we should buy a new Porsche, you know, we can afford it. Monica, we should buy a bigger house, it's not like we can't afford it.'

At first, his childish joy had made her happy too. Enjoying the sudden wealth they lived in was exhilarating. But after a while she noticed that every time she tried to get something she really wanted, he stonewalled her.

'Chandler, we should have kids, it's not like we can't afford it.'

'But we have so much money now, we can travel around the world, we can have fun, why have kids now, we have all the time in the world.'

She had never told him that she felt her time was running out. And she had been right. A few months before Ross died, she had stopped menstruating. Doctors said she had entered her menopause. It was unusual for women her age, but apparently, she wasn't the only woman who that had happened to.

Chandler had barely shared her grief. Hearing him say, 'It's not that bad, I wasn't that crazy about kids anyway', made her dislike him for the first time. Of course they had tried to talk about it, but it always led nowhere.

'Why can't you understand how important this is to me?'

'Why is the one thing that could make you happy the one thing you know you can't have? We have everything else, why does it have to be that?'

The first time the word 'divorce' came up between them, they both had flinched and shied away from it. But after a while, it was in almost every one of their conversations. They had the papers almost ready when Ross died.

Sharing their grief over losing him brought them closer again, made them realize that they didn't want to be without each other. But unfortunately, it did nothing against their differences.

Sadly enough, it was Rachel's children that showed her how wrong she had been about him.

After Rachel had started drinking, Joey had brought the children to their house from time to time when he didn't know what else to do. They had a nanny, but Joey didn't want the children to be around when Rachel had her bad days and so she had volunteered to take the kids. She loved them. Tyler was two and Ally was four when Ross died, they had been so cute and adorable, it was impossible not to fall in love with them. At least for her.

Chandler was always in a bad mood when they were there. He said he couldn't concentrate on his writing when they were around. He complained about the noise they made and about the way they ate, about toys lying around everywhere… everything about children seemed to rub him the wrong way. It got to the point where she realized she would rather spend time with her friend's kids than with her own husband.

Monica shook off the memories and opened the door to Rachel's room. When she saw who else was there, she had the strongest urge to turn around and leave.

Chandler was sitting on Rachel's bed, apparently engrossed in a witty conversation. He froze upon seeing her and the awkwardness stood in the room like a fourth person.

"In or out Monica, it's getting cold," Rachel said good-naturedly, which prompted Monica to step in the room and take a few steps towards the bed.

"Hi Monica," Rachel greeted her smiling, "Nice to see you."

"Hi Rachel," Monica greeted back, "Chandler," she acknowledged her ex-husband with a curt nod.

"Hi Monica."

He looked older somehow. She hadn't seen him in almost a year and this was the first thing she noticed. And he lost weight. He had a few grey hairs and he probably hadn't shaved for a few days. But his eyes… she'd never met another person with eyes like that. Waking up in the morning, looking into these infinite pools of blue had always seemed like heaven to her.

"Uhm… I better get going now, I have a deadline," Chandler mumbled and grabbed his jacket.

"No, you haven't," Rachel said clearly, which made Monica smile. She hadn't heard her speaking in something other than a drunken slur for a painfully long time.

"I still think I should go. You girls probably want to talk about girl stuff."

"Oh, then why don't you stay?" Rachel joked. The corner of Chandler's mouth lifted in a painful smile.

Monica couldn't help giggling a bit.

"Seriously, you guys, sit."

Reluctantly both of them were looking for a place to sit down, as far apart from each other as possible, when Rachel began to talk.

"I'm gonna tell you two something. I'm going through something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. And that didn't just somehow happen to me, I did it to myself. I hadn't had the guts to tell my husband about my feelings, about what was happening to me, about what I was thinking. I'm the luckiest woman in the world that he didn't turn his back on me, although he had every reason to. And I think you two have a lot to talk about, because you've been hiding your feelings for years."

Monica felt the need to protest. "Rachel, you know it's not like we haven't talked. For months we did nothing else but talk. It was useless."

"Oh, I know about that. Don't you think Joey and I didn't speak with one another during those two years? Of course we did. But we just used the words to hide from each other. Joey never told me he thought my grief about Ross was the reason for…"

"It wasn't?" Chandler and Monica asked in unison, looking at each other weirdly after they realized it.

"No, no, it really wasn't. It was my father who made me realize that this was the impression everyone had. I can't even remotely understand what that must have been like for Joey."

"But if it wasn't about Ross…" Chandler began but Rachel cut him off.

"I'll tell you that later. What I want to tell you now, is that I want you to talk, really talk, please. Do me that one favor. I mean, if I can kick alcohol, can you at least try to have a cup of coffee together for about an hour?"

"Do we have to?" Chandler asked.

"Yeah, you have to. You go out there, you buy Monica a cup of coffee and you sit down and talk. And I will check if you really did it and if not, I'm not gonna be happy. And believe me, you don't want to see a recovering alcoholic unhappy."

"I think I liked you better when you were drunk."

Clearly only meant as a joke, Rachel giggled at Chandler's words. But Monica was annoyed.

"Still always bringing the funny, right?"

Rachel looked to her and then back at Chandler, the giggles gone.

"And something else. You're gonna carry on this conversation without stupid jokes and cutting remarks and you're not gonna use the words 'always' and 'never'."

………

When they stepped out of the doors of the clinic, Chandler felt torn between the urge to run and the wish to just stare at his ex-wife. He wondered if she had ever been as beautiful as she was right now. Maybe it was just because he hadn't seen her for so long, but she seemed younger somehow. 'Of course, idiot', he chided himself, 'now that she isn't saddled with you any more, she feels better.'

"If we make something up, maybe she won't notice," he offered with a lopsided grin, hoping Monica wouldn't blow up at him again. He had seen her mad at him enough to last him for the rest of his life.

Monica looked up at him and shrugged a bit. "I don't find the idea that bad."

Chandler caught a hint of a smile in her eyes, which made his eyes go wide with surprise. "Me neither, I just thought you would. So… I haven't been in Central Perk for ages. Does the place still exist?"

"What about preferring the fancy places?"

He shrugged. "They got a bit dull over time. For a change, I think I would like to have someone serve me coffee who doesn't try to crawl up my ass."

Monica chuckled, "I al… I sometimes had the impression you liked that."

"Again, it gets dull after a while."

"Okay then, Gunther is gonna be surprised to see you."

"Gunther is still working there?"

"Of course. I sometimes go there with Ally and Tyler. He makes a mean cocoa with chocolate cookies."

"He likes Ally and Tyler?" Chandler asked puzzled but regretted the question instantly when he saw how defensive Monica became at once.

"Why wouldn't he? They are adorable kids."

He knew how much she loved those children. If they hadn't been such a constant reminder of his own shortcomings, he might have loved them too. His question actually had more to do with Gunther's feelings.

"I just thought… because they're Joey's."

The anger left Monica's face again and she almost smiled. "For him, they're Rachel's and he worships the ground they walk on."

"He's still pining after Rachel?"

"He's married and has his own kids, but I think somewhere deep inside he still has a soft spot for her."

He sighed and said before thinking about it, "Yeah, can't do anything about those."

"Do you know something about that?" Monica asked softly, as if hoping he'd say yes. But he felt too vulnerable to confess his soft spots to her on a parking deck of a drug clinic.

"Do you?" he asked back instead.

They looked at each other for a long time before the double beep of the doors of Chandler's car unlocking diverted their attention.

"Only the Porsche today? What's with the Jaguar?" Monica said with a teasing chuckle.

"In the garage. I had an accident involving a mailbox."

Again, Monica chuckled, and Chandler couldn't help but notice how happy it made him to be the one to make her laugh. Of course with his books, he made thousands of people laugh somewhere, but right in this moment he would have traded that in a heartbeat for just making one person laugh. Monica.

"I still think it was the mailbox's fault, though. It saw me coming from a mile away, it could've jumped out of the way."

He saw Monica struggle not to laugh, but she lost the fight after a while and laughed heartily. It brought an idiotic wide grin onto his face.

"Don't tell Rachel," he said, "'cause I'm not allowed to tell stupid jokes."

"That doesn't count, it wasn't stupid. It was cute."

"So, wanna get in? Even if it's just the Porsche?"

"I think I'll live."

………

They spent the ride in silence, contemplating what to talk about once they couldn't avoid it any more.

As they stepped into the coffeehouse, Gunther stared at them disbelievingly. Since the couch was taken, they took a seat at one of the little tables at the window. Monica noticed how gallantly Chandler helped her out of her coat, something he had never done before.

"So, what are we talking about now?" Chandler asked after they both had sipped a bit at their coffees.

Monica tried to behave as if they were still nothing but friends, never have been anything else. "How is life as a single treating you? I mean, you're free, you're rich… you must have a blast."

"It could be better. You know… now I can have all the girls, and trust me, I tried to enjoy that. But in the end, knowing that they just want me because I'm rich and famous does a lot less for my ego than I would've thought," Chandler said with a shrug.

"I thought that was what you wanted."

"See, me too. Turns out, we were both wrong."

"What about traveling around the world?"

"Oh I did that," he said, not too enthusiastic about one of his former favorite topics. "Last book tour took me everywhere. Monday Paris, Tuesday London and Wednesday I had to look into my calendar to know that we were in Berlin. It just kinda blurred together. And – most remarkably – lonely hotel suites are all the same all over the world. And… I hate flying."

She wished he might have discovered that about four years ago. Now, with him looking slightly sad into his big yellow cup of latte macchiato, she couldn't even bring herself to gloat and tell him that she could've told him all of that a long time ago.

"I heard you've sold the mansion?"

"Yeah, it was way too big for one person. I bought an apartment in Park Avenue, though."

"Still living it big, huh?" she said, raising her eyebrow. But it wasn't her usual derisive scolding for his reckless spending of money, it was more a bit of amused wondering at the choice.

"It's a nice apartment," he said nonchalantly, obviously inten on not taking any bait. "Where do you live?"

"Just about hundred steps from here."

"What? Did you…"

She almost felt caught in a bit of indulgence herself. Without Chandler's money, she couldn't have afforded her dream-apartment either.

"I love that place. I mean, at first I just wanted to buy it, subletting it to someone, but when I stood in there, looking around… it felt great." At the way he looked at her so genuinely intrigued, she felt she needed to elaborate. "When we lived there, everything was still okay with us. Even Joey says that. The first time he had brought the kids to my apartment after I moved in, he could barely bring himself to leave again. Later he told me how much it helps him to unwind, just to be there and pretend for a while it was six years ago."

While she had talked, Chandler's eyes had taken a faraway look and his gaze was directed at some far off place when he said, "God, I would love to see that place again."

"You can visit if you want," she offered before she had given herself the time to think about it. Because then it would have occurred to her that inviting her ex-husband to the apartment where they had fallen in love and spend the first few happy months of their marriage might not be a good idea.

Chandler, of course, saw that differently. "Of course I want to. What about right now?"

Biting her lower lip, she tried to come up with a believable reason to at least delay his visit. Having coffee with him _and_ inviting him into her apartment was a little too much for her for a first meeting after one year.

"Uhm… Chandler…"

Surprisingly enough, he understood before she even had said anything. "Okay, I see. What about next Saturday? I'll bring food and make us a home cooked dinner."

Her jaw fell open. "You can cook?"

A blonde eyebrows rose over bright blue eyes which smiled at her though their owner gave his best to appear hurt. "If you don't trust me, you can put lasagna in the freezer, just in case."

"All right, Saturday it is. I can't wait to see you cook," she said, her heart and stomach giving a weird lurch at the mere thought.

………

After Monica came home that evening, when she undressed to go to bed, she noticed that her underwear was slightly damp. The thought that just talking to Chandler might have aroused her so much amused her to no end. Her amusement turned to shocked silence, however, when she saw what really had wetted her panties.

It was blood.

* * *

A/N2: So, this was my first serious attempt at writing Mondler, hope you guys like it. Let me know if you did. 


	4. Home Again

**A/N:** Here's the next chapter. I changed the rating of the story back to T because it came to my attention that for M-rated stories no story alerts are sent. Or that not everyone has configured their settings that way. I'll put a warning at the beginning of any chapters that might contain any explicit content, but so far, everything should be alright if it's a T.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Home again**

Rachel took a last critical look in the mirror. She couldn't remember the last time she had been standing in front of a mirror trying to look beautiful. Her fingers were shaking when she put her lipstick back into her make up box and her hands were a bit damp. Nervously she wiped them on her pants.

Today she would go home again.

Joey had called a few hours ago and told her he would pick her up at five and since then she had tried her best to look stunning. To her immense relief, the five weeks in the clinic had slowly wiped out almost all the traces her addiction had left. She had even put on weight, so her old clothes did fit again and her face didn't look as haggard as before.

Even the scar on her left cheek was almost completely covered with make up. Shuddering she how it came to be there. She had been stumbling into the kitchen in the dark, looking for a new bottle. She had found one in her hiding place under the sink. It was back when Joey had still tried to get her to quit by throwing all the bottles away. After finding the bottle he had probably straightened up too quickly because the next thing she could remember was falling down, letting the bottle drop and landing face first on the shards. A few cuts on her arm and one on her face were the result of that.

Problem was, she couldn't get up again. She still didn't know how long she had been lying there until Joey had found her in a puddle of her own blood mixed with whiskey. In retrospect she could understand why he had freaked out, why he had yelled at her and shaken her as if he could've gotten some sense into her that way. Back then, she had wished he had let her bleed to death.

She wished there was a pill to wipe out memories like that. There were too many of them. Her shrink always told her that the memories would start to fade with time, that she would learn to live with the guilt and embarrassment she felt while remembering. But he also said that she needed those memories to remind her of what would happen if she gave in to her sickness again. Because one thing everyone around here hadn't tired of repeating like a mantra. She wasn't cured; she just had no symptoms any more.

The door to her room flew open and barging in came her children, throwing themselves into her arms.

"Mommy! You're coming home today, I'm so glad," Ally chattered excitedly while Tyler, her little boy, just nestled himself into her arms.

She still couldn't believe she had missed almost two years of their lives. Monica had been the one to tell her what Tyler's first sentence was, which foods he liked and what kind of cookies. She had told her which games her children liked to play and how Ally wanted her hair done.

But the amazing thing was, they still loved her, they still called her 'mommy'. One of the first things she had sworn to herself after she had started to think clearly again was that she would never miss anything in her children's lives again.

"You look beautiful, mom," Ally said seriously, tentatively touching her hair.

"Thank you, sweetie," she smiled, "Not as good as you though. Did Aunt Monica braid your hair?"

"Yeah, she did. I'm sure she can show you how she does it. Now that you're healthy again, it would be cool if you could do my hair."

"I'd be happy to, sweetie."

Tyler was still clinging to her without saying a word. "What's with you, baby?" she asked him.

The little black-haired boy answered in a halting whisper. "Will you go away again?"

"No," she answered seriously, tears burning in her throat, "Mommy's not going away again."

Then she stood up, still carrying Tyler who refused to let go of her. She came face to face with a smiling Joey, who had watched the whole scene.

"Wow…" Joey said, genuinely surprised, "You look…" he lifted his hand and touched her face, caressing her cheek gently with his thumb, "You look… "

She could see the emotions flickering in his eyes, she felt them in the way he touched her, in the way he struggled with words.

"You look like my wife," he finally said with a shy smile, and she couldn't think of one single compliment she had ever gotten that had made her happier.

………

Rachel slowly went down the stairs, looking around herself as if she was in an unfamiliar environment. Sure, this villa had been their home for four years now, but she felt like she hadn't really seen it in months.

She remembered the day Joey had shown her the house for the first time. Joey had little Ally on his arm and she had been eight months pregnant. He had helped her up the stairs and showed her where their bedroom would be, where their little son would be sleeping and they showed Ally her new room. She could still remember the happiness she felt while looking around the empty, light flooded rooms.

"It's beautiful," she had told Joey, thanking him with a kiss for finding the perfect home for them to raise their kids in.

When she had come home today, it felt a lot like that day. It felt like rediscovering what she had paid so little attention to for such a long time. Her home.

They had dinner together, their first as a family for God knows how long. Tyler had been quiet and subdued the whole time, which Ally made up for by chattering so much she barely found time to eat.

When the kids' bedtime came, they went without protest, although Tyler claimed he couldn't fall asleep without mommy. She caved and let him fall asleep in her arms, his hands possessively buried in her hair. Now she was on the way to spend the rest of her first night at home with her husband. And there was the nervousness again, the damp hands. She took a deep breath before she rounded the corner to the living room.

Joey was busy putting away some of the kids' toys, apparently too busy to notice her. That gave her the time to just look at him for a while.

He was in incredible shape.

Ross had told her once that during his marriage to Carol he had done a lot of 'Karat-ay', to release the tension of not doing anything else physical. Joey had been working out… a lot.

And although the reason for that was quite sad, it had made him look better than he ever had. He was lean but muscular, the sleeves of his black t-shirt stretched tightly around his biceps. The shirt also gave a hint of a broad chest and a flat stomach, not to mention the way his black jeans clung to his sexy behind. Even after eight years, just looking at him made her knees go weak.

The first time she had looked at him like this was a few months after Monica and Chandler's engagement. She had been promoted and reluctantly opted to hire a very experienced woman in her late forties as an assistant instead of some really cute, adorable guy named Tag. That day she had been sitting on the couch, huddled together, wondering if she should've just thrown professionalism into the wind and hired the sexy one anyway.

Then he came out of the bathroom, the sexy one, unaware of her presence, towel haphazardly wrapped around his waist, drops of water running down his naked chest, toweling his hair dry… making her forget about the young guy in an instant, making it impossible for her to just look at him as a friend. She had been on fire in an instant.

(flashback)

When he noticed her staring at him, he fully turned to her with a cocky grin, surely thinking that could be just one of their games. That it would be fun baiting her.

"See something you like?"

"Hmm… yeah…," she drawled in what she hoped was her sexy voice. She refrained from walking over to him, making the first move. For someone with his experience, Joey was curiously easily scared if a woman was too demanding, too aggressive. She used that against him once back when he wouldn't stop teasing her about the erotic book he had found under her mattress, back when they were nothing but friends.

He might have still believed they were when he walked over to her in his towel, sitting down next to her and wriggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Anything in particular?"

"Hmm, let's see," she purred, running her fingers up his naked arms up to his biceps. "Those are really nice arms you have there and I bet your biceps are..." she made a show out of gasping impressed when she felt the muscles of his upper arms, "Is this steel I'm feeling there?"

Joey grinned proudly. She used the opportunity to scoot a lot closer to him and then she put both her hands on his shoulders.

"Broad shoulders… very impressive."

With that she started to knead his shoulders slowly, while unflinchingly looking into his eyes. His expression changed rapidly from cockiness to confusion.

"Your chest… muscular, just the right amount of hair… very manly."

The way she ran her hands down his chest, wantonly, seductively, probably left no doubt about her intentions. But instead of looking scared, Joey looked intrigued. Curious.

She ran her hands up his chest to his shoulders again and then to the sides of his face, tracing the features of his face with her thumbs.

"I like you eyes, your nose…" then she leaned in, feeling him leaning closer to her too. "…your lips," she whispered against his mouth before she closed the remaining space, brushing her lips lightly against his. When she pulled back just a fraction of an inch, he followed her, kissing her fully on the lips. She smiled inwardly at that, she was the perfect seductress. No man had ever managed to resist her charms.

What took her by surprise, though, was the way her body reacted to his kisses, his touches. It felt like her control over this had been lost the second he started to kiss her. When she felt his hand slowly wandering up her thigh, his other hand in her hair, pulling her closer to him, deepening the kiss, she knew that she didn't want him to stop. Not now, not ever.

It seemed like it had been an unbelievable waste of time to discover only now what he could make her feel.

She tried to lie down on the couch, bringing him with her, but he suddenly tensed up, resisting her intention. Opening her eyes, she looked at him confused. He was panting as heavily as she was and he had trouble getting out what he had wanted to say.

"Rach, what… what are we doing?"

Her mouth curved into a wide grin. "What does it look like?"

"It looks like something that could get us into a whole lot of trouble," he said, more seriously than she cared for.

It looked like, with him, the perfect seductress had found her match. He had his rules, his loyalties. He wouldn't abandon that for anyone, obviously not even for her.

"From where I'm sitting, it looks like something that would be amazing."

A shy smile stole onto his lips. "I'm sure it would be," he replied, and it gave her hope that maybe he would be willing to try, even if it went against his principles. "But… there's Ross." Or not.

"Look, Joe, it's simple. I like you. And I guess it's obvious that I want you. Not Ross, you. You just figure out what you want."

He looked at her as if he didn't need to think about that. His fingers skimmed over her face, her lips; they teasingly brushed over her breasts while he held her gaze, looking conflicted and sorry.

To escape the uneasiness she started feeling at putting him in this situation, she got up quickly and went to her room, turning around again at her door.

"Think about it, Joey. Talk with Ross, whatever you think you should do. And when you're sure, I'm still gonna be here wanting you."

(end flashback)

He had done that, he had talked to Ross, which had gone surprisingly well. Only later she had found out that Ross had never been even remotely okay with that, he had just thought Joey and her wouldn't have a chance.

But back then, he had given Joey the advice to go for it and one day Joey had asked her out on a date. When they came back to their apartment, after he had given her a short kiss, he had asked her if she still wanted him. She hadn't answered. She had shown him.

That had been almost eight years ago, but standing here, looking at him she realized that she had never stopped wanting him. Even in those really bad times, when her desire had to fight its way through the haze of her drunken stupor, it had always been there.

Even in the weeks after the miscarriage, when she had blown him off every time he so much as touched her, it had been there. She still had said no, because having sex suddenly felt like deceiving him. He thought they were trying for another child. She thought she should tell him first that having sex would never lead to a baby ever again. With every time she neglected to say that, she sank deeper into her self-imposed hell, because with every day that went by, it got more and more impossible to justify her not saying anything for so long.

Months later, when she had been so drunk she forgot the actual reason why she had started drinking, she sometimes watched him working out, or just… being there and a few times she clumsily tried to throw herself at him. The first time, he had pretended not noticing how drunk she was and had gone along with it. Which ended in a disaster. It had been the last time he ever slept with her. Or held her. Or kissed her.

"Hey, earth to Rachel," Joey said smiling, waving his hand in front of her eyes.

"Hey," she smiled back, trying to shake off the painful memories.

"What's wrong?"

"Just… memories."

"Good ones?"

"Some of them. It's like every good one has a bad one attached to it."

"I guess then it's time to make a few new good ones."

She smiled.

"So, is Tyler finally asleep?" Joe asked, breaking the silence.

"Yeah, he didn't want to let me go, so I stayed until he fell asleep."

"He was awfully quiet today, don't you think?"

"I probably don't know that much about him, but… I think he has to get used to having a real family now. I mean he never really knew…" she stopped mid-sentence, trying to fight down the urge to cry.

Joey shook his head sadly at seeing her struggle and then he took her into his arms, letting her rest her head against his chest. "Rach, feeling guilty is not gonna help any of us," he murmured into her hair soothingly, softly stroking her back, "…least of all you. We can't get those years back, you can't change the past. But you can change the future, okay?"

She nodded mutely.

"You have no idea how much I want today to be the beginning of that changed future."

After taking a deep breath, she pulled back a bit to be able to look at him fully and said, "I promise it will be."

"Okay, so why don't we drink to that?" Joey asked, which made her look at him quizzically.

He wordlessly took her hand and led her out to the terrace, where he had put a few candles on the table, two wineglasses and a bottle. He motioned for her to sit and poured her a glass of a toxic looking green fluid.

"Melon juice," she smiled, "I thought you hated that stuff."

"It kinda grew on me," he said while filling his own glass, "Plus, it's healthy. No sugar, no fat and a lot of vitamins."

"To health," she playfully toasted into his direction.

"To the future," he toasted back.

When she put the glass back on the table, she felt the uneasiness again, the nervousness from before. "This feels a bit like a first date," she mused aloud, averting her eyes, "like we don't really know each other."

"Maybe we should get to know each other again?"

"Maybe. So… Joey… you're an actor, right?"

"Yeah. A few years in a soap opera, then I landed a part as regular cast member in a somewhat successful drama series, had a few roles in movies. I'm doing okay."

"Anything you still want to do?"

"I'm thinking about producing my own TV show. Maybe star in it. I thought about this a lot in the past months, I even had a few meetings with people who would support such a project, but…"

"But what?"

"Well, I had a few problems in my personal life lately, so it wasn't my first priority, but now it seems like that's gonna get better, so… I would really like pursue that. I mean, it would finally give me control over my work, over the when and where. And it's something I can still do when no one wants me as an actor any more, when I'm losing my looks."

"Yeah, like that's ever gonna happen."

"Hey, I'm pushing forty, it's gonna happen."

"I bet you'll be one of those guys who can be seventy and still have women finding them sexy."

"You're definitely good for my ego."

"Yeah, I get that a lot," she said with a smile.

"So what about you?"

"Me… oh I'm thirty eight, mother of two, unemployed, alcoholic…"

"You're not drinking right now."

"I quit over a month ago."

"What made you do that?"

Rachel took a long sip from her melon juice, trying to put into words what had helped her to make up her mind.

"That night… before you took me to the clinic…" Joe nodded his understanding and so she went on. "I woke up when you opened the window. And I knew you did because I was… disgusting."

"Rach…" Joey started but she cut him off with a gesture, conveying that she wasn't finished.

"Then you came and cleaned up around me and put the comforter over me…" Her voice broke at the last word and closed her eyes for a moment, swallowing her tears. It was impossible to describe what she had felt in that moment. How undeserving of his commitment and care she had deemed herself, how worthless. "And then you stood there looking at me. I had my eyes closed so you'd think I was asleep, but I felt your eyes on me and I was too scared just to imagine what you were seeing. I knew then, that my time was up. I knew I was this close to loosing the most important people in my life. And I would've done anything to prevent that."

Joey looked at her with wide eyes and swallowed hard. "Rach, I… I wasn't thinking about leaving, really. Not that night, not ever. People kept telling me I should, I sometimes thought it would be better for the kids, but I… I never wanted to leave."

Rachel pressed her hand over her mouth, desperately trying to stifle the sobs burning in her throat. "I believe you," she whispered in a tear-saturated voice after a while, "…and you will never know how grateful I am for that. I will always…"

She stopped talking when Joey suddenly jumped up and put his chair in front of her. Then he sat down again, took her hands in his and leaned a bit forward, his gaze holding hers unrelentingly.

"You've gotta understand something here, Rach. You don't owe me for staying with you. Don't you ever think you owe me. You gave me so much in those years we were together, more than I will ever be able to fully comprehend. This was me trying to give something back."

Through her tears, she managed a trembling smile. "I think you would've been fine without me."

"Rach, you made me the man I am today. Without you, I would be still chasing after girls and laughably small acting roles. I would be a pathetic little man in his late thirties who has nothing to show for himself than a long list of one-night stands and a shitty acting career. I am nothing without you."

"But it must have been so horrible for you, thinking it was because I was in love with someone else, that I wasn't happy with you."

Joey hung his head and was quiet for a while until he started to speak again with a scratchy voice. "It was horrible, but it was my fault."

She shook her head decidedly. "How can you say that? It wasn't, it was my fault. I should've told you what happened. Everyone thought it was about Ross, even my father did."

Joey jumped up and began pacing up and down in front of her. "It doesn't matter what everyone thought, it doesn't matter what your father thought. We were together for five years, you never gave me any reason to doubt your feelings, just jumping to this conclusion without even talking to you about it was inexcusably immature. And the other thing, ever since you've told me I've been kicking myself for being so unbelievably stupid. I mean, we were trying for a baby, I had to take you to the hospital with heavy bleeding, and afterwards you didn't want to have sex? How much of an idiot was I not to be able to put one and one together? This was so obvious."

"But no one figured that out," she said quietly.

"I don't care! I'm your husband, I should have."

Only reluctantly she admitted that to herself that he was right. She had asked herself more than once during those years why he never questioned why she had been in the hospital, or why he never asked why she had started drinking.

"Maybe… maybe you were stupid," she conceded. "But I managed to be stupid for two years."

"Well, me too. I had two years to figure out what was wrong with you and I never got any closer to the truth. I am so happy you got us out of this vicious circle."

"So I'm the hero now?"

"Of course you are, you quit drinking. Even if you asked for help, still, the decision was yours alone. You did it."

"That was what I meant before. I wouldn't have made that decision if it hadn't been for you. That night… I understood that there was no single night in the last two years when you haven't come to my room at least once, making sure I was okay. I would've died a few times already if you hadn't watched out for me."

Joey chuckled and shook his head amusedly. "How long do you think will it take for us to decide who is the bigger hero of us, or the bigger idiot?"

Rachel smiled back, tears gone. "Do you think we should meet somewhere in the middle? With both of us being a little bit of both?"

He sat down again and took her hands. "I think I can live with that."

"Me too," she admitted and she found herself being happy about that. Living with the feeling of having to be forever grateful for him not running out on her was probably no stable foundation for a healthy marriage.

He moved closer and they hugged a bit awkwardly, due to their sitting position. Rachel felt tiredness tugging at her concentration and she couldn't suppress a yawn.

"You tired?" Joey asked while letting her out of his arms.

"A little. They made us go to bed early in the clinic, get up early, too. They said that sleeping in for too long and staying up all night isn't helping when you're trying to quit drinking. And I'm still feeling a bit weak."

"Okay, then you should go to bed."

Rachel did her best to squash the twinge of disappointment at this obvious dismissal of any possibility that something might happen tonight. On the other hand, she was really tired. They stood up and took the glasses and the bottle inside. She helped him putting the glasses in the washer and when everything was taken care of, she decided that she should really go now.

"Well, then, goodnight, Joey," she said and turned around to leave.

"Hey Rach, wait," he called after her and she turned back around, surprised.

He stepped close to her and lifted his hand to gently caress her face. "I had a really good time tonight," he said in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Me too," she whispered back.

When she realized that he was moving in to kiss her, she closed her eyes with breathless anticipation. The kiss was only a fleeting caress of lips against lips, but it held enough promise for her knees to go weak and her heart to start bumping wildly against her ribs.

"Good night, Rachel," he whispered and let her out of his arms.

* * *

TBC 

Please review, you opinions mean a lot to me.


	5. Home Cooked Dinner

**A/N: **Some more Mondler. Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Home cooked dinner**

For about half an hour, Monica watched with growing amazement the way Chandler moved expertly around in her kitchen, slicing vegetables, stirring sauces, and all in all behaving as if cooking was something he was born knowing how to do. Thinking that not too long ago his abilities to prepare a meal had been exhausted with pouring milk over breakfast cereals, made this seem like a miracle.

"This is like the Twighlight Zone, Chandler. Seeing you cook, it seriously freaks me out," she said with a good-natured smile.

He turned around to her, a faux indignant frown on his face. "Hey, I live alone, I have to take care of myself."

She liked the easy and almost playful atmosphere between them, but she couldn't quite stop herself from asking the obvious question. "But you know that there are restaurants out there? Some of them even bring you food if you don't want to go out. And don't you have people you can pay to cook for you?"

It took Chandler a while to answer to that, while he had his back turned to her and fiddled with the food. She started to regret having brought that up, she had imagined keeping it lighthearted and friendly between them. But then Chandler suddenly turned to her, resolve in his eyes and nothing could've prepared her for what he said next.

"Monica, after you left… after the divorce… I was trying to do everything you always hated, everything you hadn't wanted us to do. I always ate in fancy restaurants, I went out with other women, I bought tons of stuff I didn't need, I started to drink… not as much as Rachel, but still a lot… But it all felt hollow somehow. Because regardless of how many people were around me, I always felt alone. I always knew that someone was missing. The one person that meant more to me than everyone else."

Monica swallowed painfully, trying to force down the urge to cry. But Chandler continued, oblivious to her emotional state.

"So I started cooking. Working with food somehow gave me the feeling of being close to you. Of course I was terrible at first, but after almost burning down the kitchen and ruining about twenty pots, I eventually got something right. It was the first time since our divorce that I felt a little like myself again. Because… I miss you."

She closed her eyes for a moment, fighting back tears. "I miss you too, Chandler," she said quietly, seconds away from just running over and falling into his arms.

Missing each other wasn't their problem, they both knew that. It had been what brought them together again and again, even after Ross's death when they both had been convinced that their relationship was ruined beyond repair. They knew that the love that had been between them would never vanish completely. But they also knew that this wasn't enough.

She remembered the night they had reached the final decision to file for divorce. They had a fight again, yelling at each other about something stupid she couldn't even remember any more. They yelled back and forth how fed up they were with each other. How what had seemed like a lucky coincidence had turned out to be such a terrible mistake.

A few hours later, in the middle of the night, she wandered over to his room, finding him lying in his bed, just as unable to sleep as she was. No words were spoken between them any more. She crawled into his bed and he took her in his arms, kissing her soothingly on the forehead, then on her temples, her cheeks… her mouth. They made love almost the entire night. When the first morning light started streaming through the windows, she sat up in the bed and looked at him again. Marveling at the way just looking into his eyes made her feel, agonizing over the fact that this would be the last time she would see him like that.

"I know I can't live without you," she had said. "But I can't live with you either. I just can't."

He had just nodded. There had been nothing else to say.

Monica shook herself out of her memories and smiled at Chandler who stood there staring.

"Something smells as if it's about to burn," she said with a slight grin and Chandler hurriedly turned around to save the food.

A few minutes later Chandler turned around again. "We have about ten minutes until everything's ready. Why don't you give me a tour?"

Monica raised her eyebrows quizzically. "A tour? Chandler, the apartment isn't _that_ big."

Chandler took a few steps into the living room and turned around to her again. "Yeah, maybe but… it's like I said when I came in. It's like going back in time. How did you… where did you get all this stuff? It looks _exactly_ like back then."

"You'd be surprised what is possible if you have enough time and money. Although the sideboard here is still original, remember, I got it in the divorce. The couch is new as is the coffee table. I was so excited to find a couch exactly like the old one. Everything else… well some things I had made to look like they did before."

"What is… what is in that room?" Chandler asked cautiously pointing at the door that had been their guest room before.

A lot of their fights had come back to that room, even as the already lived in this big twenty rooms mansion.

'_You didn't even let me have my game room, it always had to be like you wanted it. You just can't accept that there are things not going according to your plans.'_

'_Then have your fucking game room now, no one's holding you back.'_

'_Now it doesn't matter any more, because now you don't have to give something up for me.'_

'_Oh, this is how it is? You want me to give something up for you? Am I supposed to give up on wanting to have kids to make you happy?'_

She took a deep breath to push away the memory and slowly started towards the door of the room. Turning around again she stood between the door and Chandler, suddenly feeling very awkward to show him what that room really was.

"I was… planning on making it a guest room, but that seemed so stupid. Ally and Tyler sleep in here when they're here and they love it the way it is now... as does Joey."

"Can I see it?"

Monica reluctantly opened the door and let Chandler in past her. He gasped at seeing what she had turned the room into. There was the Ms. Packman machine Phoebe had gotten them for their wedding, a children-sized foosball table, a little ping pong table and a lot of other stuff to play with. A bunk bed was filled with a plethora of soft toys.

When Chandler's shocked silence started to make her uncomfortable, Monica said, "You wouldn't believe how good Ally is at Ms. Packman. And I think a few years from now, no one's gonna beat Tyler at foosball. Joey has long since given up on letting him win, now he really has to fight to save his dignity."

Chandler turned to her slowly, smiling warmly. The tension Monica was feeling dissipated quickly when she looked at him. She didn't even know any more what she had expected. Maybe she had thought he would gloat, or make a nasty remark or a stupid joke.

"It's a really beautiful room," Chandler said instead, still smiling. "I can see why they love it."

"If I had more room, I'd loved to have a pool table in here. Did you know Joey likes to play pool?"

"Yeah I do. I have a pool table at my place. We play sometimes when he comes over. Not as often as I would like, but..."

"Well, he said he'd rather have his children sleep in a real bed than on a pool table, so I decided against it," Monica said and Chandler chuckled.

"I see… I think food's ready."

They headed back into the kitchen and Chandler served the food with careful attention.

Monica tasted it tentatively and with a bit of apprehension. She had spent hours agonizing over the decision if she should just lie to Chandler in case what he had cooked would be horrible. But as it turned out, it was a moot question.

"This is fantastic! God, Chandler, I can't believe how good this is!"

He smiled shyly. "You really like it?"

"I love it. I mean, I was really worried I'd have to fake it, but… this is actually very good. Your own creation?"

"Mostly. It's a recipe I have from a book but I played around with it a bit," he said, trying to sound casual, but she knew him good enough to recognize the glint of pride in his eyes. She couldn't believe that all of a sudden she could talk to Chandler about food and recipies.

"What kind of books are you using?"

"Well, I started old school, Bocuse and guys like him."

"Uh oh…" she said with heartfelt compassion.

"Exactly. But then I found out I'm more a Jamie Oliver sort of cook."

She smiled at the thought that Chandler of all people would favor an English cook.

"I love most of the things he does," she said and then trailed off at the sudden yearning she felt at the thought of working in a restaurant. She had stopped working when all the money had come pouring in and it had taken a long time for her to miss her job. But eventually, she did. "God… to be a chef again," she sighed.

"Why aren't you? I mean, you have the money, you could start your own restaurant."

"I was thinking about it. But having your own restaurant has much more to do with _not _cooking than I care for. Besides, Ally and Tyler were here a lot and… don't know. Never really came very far thinking about it."

"But now, with Rachel getting better, maybe you should do it," Chandler said with a startling intensity to his tone. "You can hire a restaurant manager to help you with the not cooking."

"I don't know…" she hedged, hoping he would let it go already.

"If it's about money, I can lend you some."

Obviously, dodging a clear answer wasn't going to help matters. Considering he had been the one urging her to quit, he was curiously insistent on her starting to work again.

"I… I have other plans right now. And having my own restaurant doesn't figure in them too much."

"What plans?"

She briefly contemplated telling him about the return of her fertility. She had visited her gynecologist the day after the bleeding had started and she had told her that somehow, much to her astonishment, Monica's ovaries had started working again. But telling Chandler she was going to impregnate herself with a sperm donation to finally have the child she always wanted seemed like a bad choice right now. He would probably tell her what her doctor had told her, that she should try to find a partner to have that child with. Monica didn't want to tell people that she felt like she had to take that chance as soon as possible. Even her doctor couldn't tell her how long this would last. There was a huge possibility she wouldn't get a chance like this ever again.

"I don't want to tell," she finally said, looking at him, silently asking him to let it go.

Chandler cleared his throat uncomfortably. It felt like they were suddenly sitting further apart though they hadn't moved.

"So... have you seen Joey or Rachel lately?" he asked at length and she silently thanked him for the welcome change of topic.

"Yeah, both. They're home again and trying to... adjust. I mean... they've been through some pretty rough times."

"They'll make it," Chandler said with an astonishing lack of concern. "You'll see, they're gonna be all over each other again in no time."

Monica smiled. It was true; Joey and Rachel always had been the kind of couple who never hid their feelings from anyone. Neither Joey nor Rachel had come out of their apartment once during the weekend after their first date, which actually worried the rest of them, because Joey usually never missed the opportunity to raid their fridge. Especially not when he had a girl over. When they finally appeared again, hand in hand, glowing happily and still not eating a thing, it had felt as if suddenly two strangers were in their midst. Not unfriendly and still as likable, but still very different from the persons they had been. From then on, they had been 'Joey and Rachel', a term that changed to something like _Joe'n'Rach_ after a while, because they were a lot like a single entity anyway.

"They always were inseparable, weren't they?" she asked, lost in thought.

"Yeah! There were times when I would only go into their apartment with my eyes shut," Chandler said, obvious thinking of a slightly different aspect of their relationship. "They didn't lock their stupid door once. And honestly... if I'd been in Gunther's place? I would've permanently thrown Joey out of the coffeehouse three weeks into their relationship."

He was right. She had wondered about that, too, and even Phoebe had said how she felt bad for Gunther, having to see them all the time. Only when Ross was there had Rachel and Joey seemed able to keep it down for a while. It wasn't so much that they were doing anything inappropriate, it was more that constant touching and holding hands, the short kisses every other minute, the absent minded caresses. And of course the sudden running out of the coffeehouse when they decided they needed a bit more privacy.

And the thing that amazed her the most was that it had been always like that, not just at first. After they got married, after they had kids, there was still this vibe between them that made the world around them become insignificant, when you could stand right beside them and they were so far away, that nothing and no one could reach them. This was one of the reasons watching them lately had been that painful, because it seemed so unnatural, so unlike them.

"Why do you think they were like that?"

"No idea. I mean, at first I thought it was some kind of trophy thing for Joey, showing the world he could get a woman like her. I even understand that, I had that feeling too when we first started going out."

For someone formerly quite inapt at expressing feelings, Chandler sure was talking a lot about them right now.

Only that now Monica didn't want to steer into that territory again. "Never thought about it that way, but... it makes sense somehow. Rachel... with her I always thought she needed to prove to herself and anyone else that she could be happy again, with someone else than Ross. But what about now? What about... let's say five years ago?"

"I think they always had something to keep them occupied, keep them happy. At first their new relationship, then the marriage, the pregnancy, the kids... I mean, I know it sounds mean, but now that Rachel has kicked alcohol? ... they have a whole new reason to be happy. Us... we always only had each other."

Fine, she decided, let him talk about us, maybe there's something I don't know.

"Were we ever where those two are?" she asked. "That much into each other?"

"I think we were. Only with us, nobody saw it because we had to keep it a secret."

Silence settled over them once again, but this time it felt like a cozy blanket woven out of warm memories.

"If I could do all of that again, I would still keep it a secret," she said at long last.

"You would do it again... I mean... with me?" he asked, a heartbreaking tinge of wonder in his voice.

"I never regretted how things started between us," she answered while looking directly into his eyes and smiling around the pain her words threatened to dredge up. "I regret how they ended."

………

After that they had managed to steer clear of potentially awkward topics. They had kept it lighthearted and friendly just as Monica had wanted.

As Chandler gathered his stuff and got ready to leave, Monica finally found the courage to ask him what had been on her mind. "Do you think we should do that again sometime?"

Chandler turned to her smiling happily. "I'd love to. Maybe next time you can cook something at my apartment. But … if you'd rather, I could take you out somewhere…"

"No, no… this was… this was so much fun. I'd like to do what you said. Maybe we can… think of something we both can work on, you know? Some huge seven course menu just for the two of us?"

"Still loving the challenge, are you?" he asked, a wide smile on his face.

He surely was just teasing, but after years of constant misunderstanding, she tried to be extra careful. "We don't have to…"

"No, Mon, it's okay," he assured her. "It sounds like fun. So what do we cook?"

"I leave it to you. You take the courses with the uneven numbers, I take the even ones. Surprise me."

"And when do we do this?"

"Are you free next Saturday?"

"I am," he said hastily almost before she had finished her question. Noticing his eagerness, he smiled apologetically. "I'm… I'm really looking forward to this."

"Me too."

Chandler stood next to the door, all packed up and ready to go. He didn't though and instead shifted nervously from one foot to the other. "So… then… see you next Saturday."

Monica debated with herself for a few moments but then she closed the space between them and gave Chandler a chaste kiss on the cheek. "Thanks Chandler and… see you next Saturday."

Chandler let go of the bag he had been carrying and it crashed to the floor with a thud. Then he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her to him tightly.

"I have to thank you. I hadn't had such a good time in ages," he whispered into her hair. Her heart constricted painfully at his words, as did something in her lower abdomen. Maybe it was really him who had that effect on her.

"Me too, Chandler. Me too."

* * *

tbc 


	6. Exhaustion

**_Chapter 6: Exhaustion_**

Joey rearranged the vase on the coffee table for the umpteenth time. Either it didn't stand right in the center of the table, or the light just didn't hit it right, or the flowers in it – lilies, of course – weren't displayed to their fullest beauty. He'd done that for the past twenty minutes with indefinite patience. It began to wear thin. The time before his decorative efforts, he had spent – as always – with removing various numbers of hazardous objects from their living room. Toy cars, little plastic animals, and Barbie's high heels. One never suspected just how dangerous they were, until one actually stepped on either of those items with bare feet. An experience that, after having made it a few times, Joey meticulously tried to avoid.

It's been about an hour since Rachel had gone up with Tyler to put him to bed. Fifty five minutes that Joey had spent industriously bustling around in the living room, trying his best to be unconcerned. Trust was the key here, he reminded himself of what Rachel's shrink had told him. She needed to know that he wasted no thought whatsoever on her having a relapse. He needed to be her pillar of strength. Problem was, he didn't feel particularly strong right now. He felt more like tearing upstairs and finding out what the hell took her so long.

About a blink of an eye later, he did.

Rachel's bedroom was empty, which he took to be a good sign.

He heaved a deep sigh of relief when he found her in Tyler's bed. And then he did squash an equally deep sense of disappointment. He had loved their time together last night, loved how they could talk again, a little awkward still, but really getting down to their issues. He needed that, more than he'd ever thought he did. After all, he wasn't the talking kind of guy. But after two years of misunderstandings and silence, he had suddenly found out how much he had missed opening up to her. Well, and holding her, kissing her. In short, having a wife.

It looked as if she was sleeping alone, right on Bob the Builder's smiling face. Only a little fist possessively clutching a strand of her hair, and a mob of black hair peeping out from under the covers let him know that there was his son nestled into the curve of Rachel's body.

He had half a mind to let them sleep, but he knew he shouldn't let Tyler getting used to sleeping in one bed with Rachel all the time. Because, among thousands of very good pediatric and psychological reasons, Joey felt he ought to be the one sleeping in one bed with Rachel.

With care not to wake either of them, he untangled Tyler's hand from Rachel's hair, and then scooped Rachel up into his arms, a little unnerved about how light she still was.

After he had gently placed her on her bed, he took a look around the repainted and redecorated room. The repainting he had done himself while she was in the hospital. It had felt therapeutic. The redecoration he had left to a professional, but Rachel – as he noticed now – had added a few personal touches as well.

The pictures on her vanity for instance. One family picture from three years ago, with Tyler sitting on his smiling mother's lap, fiercely scowling at the camera. They'd been happy then. Another recent one of him with his children – without Rachel, for obvious reasons. And one she had taken eight years ago, while he slept. He hadn't understood for the longest time why she kept it in such high regard. It showed him, drooling in his sleep on the barcalounger, Ally – three months old at the time – sleeping peacefully on his chest, covered by one of his hands that seemed gigantic in comparison to the tiny baby.

"When I saw you two like that," she had tried to explain later, when asked about the picture, "I felt so much love for the two of you, I thought I might die from happiness."

He could understand that, there had been a lot of those moments for him, too. He only sometimes wished that he had a picture of them.

Reluctantly, he tore his gaze away from the pictures and took another look around. There were candles everywhere, matches besides. Rachel had that notion that nothing was more romantic and sensuous than making love in candlelight. For him, it pretty much didn't matter what light it was. In a pinch, he could do without any light at all. It was the making love part that he found important. Although, admittedly, Rachel looked spectacular in candlelight, especially when wearing nothing but a smile.

His mind came to a screeching halt at the thought. Was that what she had in mind? Was that the reason she had placed all those candles in here?

He had not thought of that. Deprived as he was, he had not dared, not allowed himself to think of that. She was too sick, too fragile, it was only her second day at home… and yet here she obviously was, thinking about it, planning it.

He took one of the matchboxes that was nearest and lit one of the candles with a slightly shaking hand. When he looked back at her, still peacefully sleeping, he found that she still looked breathtakingly beautiful in candlelight. A bit paler than usual, but still. The faint light illuminated the small scar on her cheek, and he couldn't resist reaching out and slightly touching it with his fingertips. As much as he wanted to wake her, he would not. He could ask her about the candles tomorrow.

It occurred to him, that he ought to at least take her pants off, and maybe her blouse, so she could sleep comfortably. She was wearing snug-fitting sweatpants that came off easily enough. As he looked at her exposed belly, he was startled once again at how painfully thin she still was. And then something else caught his eyes. Another scar, on the underside of her belly button, glinting silvery in the dim light. A stretch mark from her second pregnancy. He still remembered seeing it for the first time. It was an angry red bruise at first, about an inch long, leading downwards from her bellybutton, which was at the time sticking funnily out from her enormous belly. For a second there, he had thought she'd freak. She had been so proud after Ally's birth, that she had come away without any stretch marks at all. But she had just smiled sardonically down at her belly and said, "You owe me one hell of a thoughtful mother's day gift, baby."

Over time, the bruise had healed, and when her belly turned back to normal and her navel drew inwards again, all that was left was half an inch of barely visible scar tissue.

"My battle scar," Rachel had called it sometimes.

Again he couldn't stop himself from touching it lightly, feeling the texture of the healed rip, even softer and smoother than the surrounding skin. He hadn't needed to touch it to remember what it felt like under his fingertips. He actually also knew what it felt like under his lips, or on the tip of his tongue. He knew how it tasted. And although he knew all that, he still had half a mind to refresh the memory. But he caught himself just in time. He wouldn't steal such an intimacy from her while she was unconscious.

When he peeled her out of her blouse, a slightly more difficult task than the pants, his mind went back to the first time he had undressed her.

………

It was on the night of their first date. They had tumbled into his bedroom and onto his bed, kissing and blindly groping at each other like teenagers. Her unbridled enthusiasm had surprised him. Of course he knew she wanted that, she had made that clear before. But obviously she had also opted to skip the usual first date moves and strategies. Not that he was complaining.

Apparently fed up with his somewhat uncoordinated attempts at getting her out of her clothes, she started undressing herself. That was the point when he decided to try a completely different approach to this. He hadn't wanted this to be some frenzied fuck, some half hour long romp in the hay that both of them had probably had in abundance. He wanted to do something he had never tried before. Taking it slow, delaying the pleasure, drawing it out.

He put his hand over hers and stilled her movement.

"I want to do this."

She took a calming deep breath and sat up again from her half lying position. "Okay," she said, sounding mildly surprised.

He started to softly caress her face, taking his time to marvel at the softness of her skin, its silky texture. He carefully watched her for any signs of impatience or disappointment, but he found none. Her chest was still heaving with panting intakes of breath, but otherwise she stayed perfectly still, curiously watching him.

It had been an extraordinary experience. He slowly took off her blouse, barely touching her. Then he started caressing her slowly and extensively, breathing kisses here and there on her heated skin. With rapt fascination he watched her going from moaning appreciatively to trembling with unfulfilled need. After removing her pants and running his hands up her legs to her crotch, he teasingly touched the center of her desire through the fabric of her panties. Just enough for her to feel it, not enough to really get her anywhere.

Then he continued with what she had later called 'sweet torture'. Light kisses, teasing touches, caresses that set her skin on fire.

When he finally put his mouth between her legs, stroking her clit with his tongue just once, she exploded with a high pitched cry.

It left him a bit stunned and borderline disappointed because he had hoped to have more of a chance to get to feel her, to taste her. Which was the reason he brought his mouth down on her again and when she didn't protest, he didn't stop until she cried out again, clamping her legs around his neck, convulsing and trembling. He crawled up to her and watched her come down from her high.

Even eight years later he could still remember the ache that had filled his heart at seeing her like this, at realizing it was him who could make her feel this way. It had been an overwhelming, almost life changing realization. Looking back, he knew that it had been this moment that he felt for the first time that, if he could have her, he would never want to be with anyone else, ever again.

When he was finally inside her for the first time, her body molded itself around him as if it had been made for him. It had felt that way for him every time he was with her. As if they had been made for one another. Later, when their relationship had started to be about more than just sex, he had that feeling about almost everything they did together. That as long as they were doing something together, they couldn't fail.

He moved in a steady rhythm, again trying to get as much pleasure for both of them out of it as possible. Suddenly a jolt went through Rachel and he stopped, getting worried.

"Dahh… do that again," Rachel panted into his ear and he obliged, trying to exactly repeat the move he had made before. "Ahhh… I can't believe this… yeah… right there... "

It took only a couple more thrusts for her to climax yet again, digging her nails into his back and crying out his name. That one had gone through his body like a shot of adrenaline.

There was no control left in him after that, only raw desire. Luckily she exploded once more before he did.

When it was over, he had collapsed beside her, flat on his back.

After a few moments in which he tried to get his breathing back under control, he heard Rachel talk beside him.

"Wow, Joey, if sex with you is always like that, we won't do anything else for a looong time."

He rolled onto his side and looked at her. She was lying on her side too, facing him and favoring him with a wide and happy smile. He hadn't even tried to remember the last time that he had felt this happy, this content.

"Would you be disappointed if I tell you that I never used to do it like that, never took it that slow?"

She had seemed to have to think about this for a while before announcing, "No. No… I think that makes it even better."

………

Joey tucked the comforter carefully around Rachel's sleeping form. Life had taught him patience, and patient he would be. But now that he knew how Rachel thought about physical intimacy, a tendril of heat uncoiled in his gut, making him hope he wouldn't have to be patient for too long.

* * *

Rachel was in heaven. In her case, heaven was her living room in which she was sitting on the couch, making out with her husband. Today she had been smart. Trying to prevent herself falling asleep in her son's bed, she had taken a nap in the afternoon, and she had asked Joey to put Tyler to bed. Tyler had thrown a bit of a tantrum, but after Joey had conspiratorially whispered something in his ear, he had been silent. 

After spending the second day in a row with her son, she had finally started to get an idea of what was bothering him. Without her even asking him anything, Tyler had suddenly started to ask her questions.

"Mommy, do you think daddy is happy?"

It was a loaded question and none that she wanted to go to the bottom to with a four-year-old. "Yeah, I think so, why?"

"He was always sad when you were here, he just started to be happy when you were away, in the hospital."

The realization that Tyler might have thought that Joey was happy about her being away hit her like a brick in the gut. It must have been torture for his little soul to be torn apart between wanting his mother back and thinking this would make his father unhappy. Unlike Ally, he had never seen the two of them being happy together.

Trying not to cry, she had taken her son in her arms and gently caressed his head. "Tyler, sweetie, daddy was always sad because mommy was sick. When I was in the hospital he knew mommy was getting better, so that is why he is happy again."

"So daddy really loves you?"

He has to, she thought, for having went through all those years without leaving me.

"Yeah, I think he does," she said to Tyler. "But why don't you ask him, you know, from man to man?"

Tyler wasn't so easily placated and there still seemed to be something that heavily weighted on him. "He was crying a lot, you know?" he said, making Rachel's heart constrict painfully. "Like a baby," he added with all the condescension in his voice, his almost five year old self could muster.

She did not know what to say. She wasn't even sure there was anything to say to that. Then again, a child needed the trust in its parents' strength. She might have an excuse for being frail, because she was sick. But Joey, he needed to be the daddy who could do everything, knew everything, and didn't cry like a baby, at least not without a very good reason.

"It helps to let your feelings out sometimes. And daddy was very, very scared for mommy, because I was so sick and he couldn't talk to anyone about it. And it's always better to talk about what's bothering you. You know, this is why mommy got sick, because I kept something a secret from everyone and it made me sick."

Tyler looked up at her with round, dark eyes, so much like Joey's it almost made her cry.

"And then you told your secret and you got better again?" he asked, almost sounding hopeful.

"Yeah," Rachel whispered, realizing the truth in this simple statement, "that is how it was."

'You are as sick as your secrets', was one of the many saying she had read in the book they had given her in the hospital.

"I've a secret, too," Tyler said quietly, resting his head against her shoulder.

"Do you want to tell me?" she asked, almost dreading what he had to say.

"I want to, but it's daddy's secret. I don't know if I should tell you."

Rachel had a sickening feeling she knew what this was about, but still hoped she was wrong.

"You should talk to daddy. Tell him what you thought, ask him if he's happy and… and about his secret."

Finally Tyler nodded and then he jumped off her lap and ran out the door. Before she had collected herself enough to get up and go about her tasks, he came barging back in, looking up at her.

"What was it?", he asked.

"What do you mean, sweetie?"

"Your secret, the one that made you sick, what was it?"

Rachel crouched down in front of him and gently took his hand. In the hospital, she had thought hours about how to explain to him one time why she had become an alcoholic. She might as well do it now.

"You know, daddy and I wanted Ally and you to have a little brother or a little sister. But then mommy found out that can't happen anymore and… it made me so sad, I didn't even tell daddy."

"It made you sad that you can't have another baby?"

"Yes."

"Are Ally and I not enough for you?"

She had only one answer to the innocently asked question. She opened her arms and pressed her son against her heart.

………

When Joey came down into the living room again, she had asked him if Tyler had talked to him.

"Yeah, what was that all about?" Joey answered, smiling a little insecurely. "He asked me if I love you."

She avoided his questioning gaze. "I told him to ask you. He told me today that he had been afraid that me being home again would make you sad because you had always been sad before."

Joey shook his head and unceremoniously plopped down on the couch next to her. "God, that must have been horrible for him. I didn't even know he thought I was always sad."

She turned to look at him, her stomach clenching at what she meant to tell him. "He said he saw you cry… a lot."

He froze for a second and then ran his right hand through his hair.

"It wasn't _a lot_," he said at length. "It was just once when they out of the blue asked me if you were going to die because you were sick all the time." He paused then, as if contemplating something. "And yeah… the one time after… I found you in the kitchen. Well and… last Christmas. But that's about it… I think."

Tears were streaming down her face by then, anguish knifing into he heart. "I'm sorry I did this to you, you have no idea how sorry."

Joey shook his head once again and fixed her with a resolute stare. "Rach, we've been over this. I don't want you to feel guilty, because it wasn't just your fault."

"But still, knowing how much you must've hurt…"

The evening that had started so promising seemed to rapidly turn into very tearful affair, but thankfully, Joey obviously hadn't the intention of letting it come to that.

"You wanna know what I told Tyler before?" he asked, suddenly cheerful.

She played along, not wanting to cry anymore either. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him that mommy was the first woman I ever fell in love with and the she's the only woman I'm ever gonna be in love with for as long as I live."

There was nothing more to say after that. So they kissed and they had been doing it since then. Joey seemed to have all the time in the world. It had been always like this between them, it was like with her, he always wanted to take his time. It was her who felt the urgency awake in her, the desire uncurling hot and demanding in her womb.

She sunk into their kisses, let the wave of passion sweep over her until she got a bit lightheaded. Just then, Joey pulled back, looking over her shoulder.

"Tyler, you're supposed to be in bed."

Rachel smiled to herself thinking back to the time five years ago, when Ally had caught them doing more than just kissing. They had never locked their bedroom door because they hadn't wanted to lock her out in case of an emergency.

It hadn't been really an emergency in Ally's case, just a bad dream, but nonetheless, she had found Joey on top of her, a comforter thankfully covering them from their waists down. Eventually they had gotten over their initial embarrassment and hastily put on their sleeping clothes. When they asked Ally what the problem was, Ally said that she had a bad dream and she asked if she could come in to their bed, cuddling too.

They had looked at each other at that, realizing that the kid perceived what they had been doing not as something filthy or forbidden, that she wasn't anywhere near interpreting it as something else than it really was – an act of love, two people expressing physically what they felt for each other. They had let her crawl between them and although frustration had made them share a slightly regretful smile, it felt natural somehow to have her there. After all, them having sex was the reason she existed.

Tyler's unusual cheery voice brought Rachel back from the past.

"You're kissing mommy," he observed, unmistakably happy about that. "Now I believe that you love her."

With that, he was on the couch and between them, snuggling against Rachel and putting his little feet in Joey's lap.

"Keep kissing her, daddy," Tyler murmured, already half asleep again.

"He never saw us kiss," Rachel thoughtfully said, "That's why he didn't believe you."

"I'm afraid it's something worse," Joey admitted with a rueful tone in his voice. "He walked in on me and Charlene once. And even though I ended it the same day and hired Linda, he didn't talk to me for two weeks."

The pain of Joey's admission of his tryst with the former nanny was still something Rachel was only barely able to handle. And even if she had told him she wouldn't hold it against him if he had slept with her, she didn't even want to think about the possibility. Just thinking they had kissed, thinking Tyler had seen this, was disturbingly painful. Undoubtedly, that was the secret that weighted so heavily on Tyler's small shoulders.

She looked down at her son and lovingly stroked his thick and unruly raven hair.

"He looks more and more like you," she observed solemnly, trying to divert her thoughts from the things she couldn't change anymore.

"Rachel, I'm so sorry."

She took a deep breath and looked up to him, a forced smile on her face. "It's okay Joe, I understand..."

"No Rach, it's not okay. Remember that time when Ally walked in on us?"

"Yeah," she breathed tonelessly, her throat starting to close in on itself, "I just thought of that a moment ago."

"Remember – after it stopping to feel awkward – how natural it felt, how like being in this cozy nest of family love?"

Rachel only managed a mute nod, barely able to look at him any more.

"What happened with Charlene... it felt like the opposite of that. Like ripping the family apart, like taking something irreplaceable away from Tyler. I never felt guiltier in my entire life. I mean… I know how I felt when I discovered my father had a mistress, and I was well over twenty by then. Tyler is four, I can't imagine…"

Rachel took another shuddering breath and looked up at Joey again. "You can't change what happened, Joe. I'm not saying it doesn't hurt, but... look at Tyler. He didn't need more to believe in us again than to see us kiss. Maybe... " she lifted the hand with which she had caressed Tyler's hair and softly stroked Joey's cheek, "... maybe it's as simple as that."

Joey looked down at his son too, tenderly enveloping his feet in his hands to keep them warm. "My mother keeps calling him Joey."

"Like I said, I can see why."

A little smile appeared on Joey's face and looked up at her again. "Let's hope he's gonna be smarter than me."

"Joey…" she started to protest, but he cut her off with a kiss. They lost themselves in the kiss for a while until Tyler started to squirm between them.

"We should take him to his bed," Rachel whispered. "And maybe… maybe that's where we should go, too," she continued, still in that small whisper.

"Yeah," Joey said with a warm smile, "very good idea."

Joey put his arms around Tyler and lifted him up. Then he got up from the couch and went to the stairs and Rachel followed him.

Seeing Joey carry Tyler so carefully in his arms made her realize once again how amazing this man was as a father. He had been from the first day on. From the day when he knew he was going to be one.

Not that she ever had any doubts about that. Although there were people who had. One person to be precise.

………

It had been about eight months into their relationship when she had had left work a bit early to meet Joey in the coffeehouse. They had planned to look for some new furniture for their apartment together. Ross had been sitting in the armchair, reading a science magazine.

"Hi Ross," she greeted him cheerfully. She had always been in an elevated mood back then.

"Hi Rach," Ross greeted back a lot less enthusiastically.

Since it looked like there would be no conversation taking place, she turned her attention to Gunther who left a customer practically in the middle of taking his order.

When she had her coffee and was looking through one of the furniture catalogues she had brought with her, Ross suddenly decided to speak. "So… how are things going with you and Joey?"

She smiled widely. "Great. Oh Ross I am so happy. I'm still so glad you told him to give us a chance, because it's so amazing, really. I love him so much."

Ross's face fell – practically to the floor. "You… you love him?"

Only at this moment did she realize that even if he was over her, this couldn't be easy for Ross.

"Yeah, I love him," she said, wiping the idiotic wide smile off her face.

Ross's voice suddenly started to shake and squeak, like it always did when he was upset. "So, how wonderful, you love him. Does he love you too?"

"He does," she answered and was about to elaborate, when she noticed the whiteness of his face ad the fact that he was shaking. "Ross, what is with you? Are you okay?"

"Oh, I am okay," he said cheerily, eyelids twitching treacherously. "I'm more than okay, I'm fine."

His voice was by now about a whole octave higher than unusual and he twitched and bounced as if he had spent the whole day drinking extra strong espresso.

"Ross, you're not, what is up with you? I thought you were okay with Joey and me being together? What's changed?"

"Oh, you're asking what's changed?" he repeated, voice shrill like a wrong tuned violin. "Uhm… to be honest… nothing. Nothing has changed since I fell in love with you back in the ninth grade. Which seems to be my problem, because you're in love with Joey now."

Now she was upset. Angry to be exact. "What?" she cried, a little on the shrill side herself. "Ross, I can't believe that. How could you tell Joey it's okay for him to go out with me when you're still feeling like that?"

Her rage seemed to calm him a little. "I thought it would last like two weeks, a month tops. I mean, he's Joey. I thought you would get it out of your system and then he would screw up somehow and it would be over."

She was flabbergasted. "You counted on the fact that it wouldn't last?"

"God, Rachel, is that so hard to understand? He's Joey."

"Which means?" she asked tartly.

"Come on, you know what that means. He chases girls, he's a cheater. And face it, he's not very bright. Do you think you can build a life with a man like him? Get married, have kids?"

It had been eight months by then. Almost as long as her relationship with Ross, not quite as long as her relationship to Barry, not long enough to think about marriage and kids. But she felt fiercely protective of Joey, regardless.

"Ross, I'm not thinking about stuff like that right now, but believe me, I have no reason to doubt that Joey would be wonderful as a husband… and a father. Believe me, there is much more to him than you see."

In this moment a happily shouted, "Hi beautiful, hi Ross," alerted them to Joey's presence.

He sat down beside her and gave her a smacking kiss on the lips. When he pulled back, he noticed the awful mood in an instant. "What are the long faces for?"

"Joey, sweetie, Ross was only okay with us going out because he thought we would mess up after a few weeks," she gave him the news in an ugly, abridged version.

Joey froze. "What?"

She shrugged while glaring at Ross. "Don't ask me, I just learned it myself."

"You lied to me, Ross?"

Ross was defensive. "I told you what you wanted to hear. What would you have done if I had told you I still love Rachel?"

"Nothing!" Joey said as if that was the most obvious answer. "I wouldn't have done anything. I would've respected your feelings even if it wasn't easy, but I would've stayed away from her. I thought you knew that about me."

"I think I did, but…"

"You lied to me. What are you expecting me to do now? Do you think I'm gonna give her up now? Now that I'm in love with her?"

"No no, Joey, I don't want you to give her up. I mean, yeah, I made a mistake, I really thought you wouldn't make it. But now that you have, I have to get used to it. I think it will be okay, somehow. I was just a bit… shocked when Rachel told me you guys are in love."

"I can't believe you thought we would mess up. Did you think I would cheat on her two weeks in or something?" Ross's silence had given Joey the answer he had been waiting for. "Nice to know what a low opinion you have of me."

"I'm sorry, Joe. I don't any more. You've changed since you two are going out. I can see a lot of stuff now that I couldn't imagine. I just wish… I wish I had seen it before."

………

While she watched Joey putting Tyler to bed, lovingly brushing a wayward strand of hair out of his face and tucking him in, she leaned her head against the doorframe, feeling the familiar exhaustion coming over her. She groaned inwardly. Another night where nothing would happen.

Joey turned around and she took a few steps back, allowing him to close the door to Tyler's room. "You tired?" he asked her when he saw the look on her face.

"God, I'm so sorry Joe. I don't know what's up with me. It's not that I don't want to, I do, but I'm afraid I'm gonna fall asleep the second I lie down somewhere."

Joey cupped her chin and forced her to look into his smiling face. "Hey baby, it's okay. You've been through hell and back, your body needs time to recover. We don't need to do anything."

"But I want to," she said earnestly and the smiling happiness in his eyes gave way to something else. Something excitingly familiar.

"I know," he whispered. "Me too. But you have to take your time, you getting better is more important than anything else."

He stepped closer to her and wrapped one arm around her, using his other hand to gently caress her face. "You know, when you're ready, I'm still gonna be here wanting you."

She smiled at hearing him say that. It was so comforting to know that he hadn't forgotten; that those memories were as important to him as they were to her.

"I love you," she whispered.

"Love you too," he said and kissed her forehead. "Good night."

"Good night."

* * *

tbc

Please review.


	7. Missing Chapters

**_A/N: _**I know I've promised to finish this story, whatever happened. Looks like I can't quite keep that promise, so here's what I decided. The way I write stories, in bits and pieces that at some point come together to a finished whole, I had a lot of what is supposed to come next already written. I post these pieces as one chapter, so that everyone still interested in this story might see where I intended to got with it.

There are some chunks of the story still missing (although not much), and dialogue is mostly untagged (you should be able to tell who's talking, though). Bold italics mark a new chapter.

I've asked myself for a long time if I should do this or rather pull the story completely, so I'd be happy to know if I did the right thing. Since it's been a while, I recommend reading the story from the beginning again.

Enjoy

_**Chandler's apartment**_

Scene where Monica visits Chandler and they talk about their problems, they reconcile

As if having the concierge of the building Chandler lived in escorting her to the elevator hadn't been weird enough, they also ordered someone to carry the grocery bags she had brought for her evening with Chandler.

It made Monica feel a bit uncomfortable. Sure they had had staff in their mansion, too, back when they were married, but it always felt more comfortable to her if she could do her work alone. Maybe that had been the reason she had retreated to leading her old life again. It seemed to suit her best.

Chandler opened the door with a bright smile and took the bag from the boy who had helped her, unobtrusively slipping a tip into his hand.

After he'd closed the door and they had greeted each other with an awkward hug around the bags, Chandler grinned at her.

"You hated that, right?"

"Well, let's say I was glad he didn't offer me a piggy back ride to your apartment door."

.

.

.

"I mean where is this leading? Look at Rachel and Joey."

"What about Rachel and Joey? They have kids."

"Yeah, they were Mr. and Mrs. Perfect, but they almost fucked up everything they had because Rachel couldn't get over not being able to have a third child. What I was thinking was, of course I wanted to have kids with you, I would've loved to, but since it wasn't possible any more, why not just be happy with what we had, with just the two of us? It hurt to think that being with me wasn't enough to make you happy."

………

Talk about Ross

"God, I miss him so much."

"I miss him too. I think of him every day, as weird as that sounds."

"Sometimes I stare out of the windows of my apartment for hours and then I'm wondering why there's a skinny blonde chick in his apartment."

"There's a skinny blonde in Ross's apartment? Okay let's move to your place."

"Pig."

"Can I tell you something?"

"Course you can."

"I haven't slept with another woman for… I don't know… about one and a half year."

"Since we're confessing, I went out with Richard for a few weeks, but it was… it was like visiting a grave. There's just nothing left between him and me and we both knew it. We just pretended for a while."

"About four months ago, I met Phoebe. I… well, I asked her out on a date."

"You were dating Phoebe?"

"No, she called a few days later and cancelled. Haven't seen her since and I don't know what she's up to. Joey says she's gotten it in her head that she knew everything that would happen to us beforehand. You know, about Ross and our divorce… and about Rachel's drinking."

"She always seemed to be seeing things none of us could."

"Yeah, but predicting the future? That's pretty big, even for her, don't you think?"

_**Working out**_

Rachel was in the midst of preparing breakfast for her family, when her kids came barging into the kitchen.

"Mommy," Tyler announced, "it's kinda boring to stay at home with you the whole day. I want to go to kindergarten again."

She spun around looking surprised. "I thought you _wanted_ to spend time with me, you don't _have_ to."

"Well, if it's okay with you, I'd like to go play with my friends again. I already asked daddy, he's home today, so you won't be alone."

Her son's concern touched her deeply and she leaned down to him and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

"You're so sweet."

She stood on the front porch for a while, waving until Linda's car with the children inside wasn't visible any more. Sighing, she turned back to the house, thinking about what she could do with all her time.

Joey was still sleeping. Since he knew she was up early in the morning and would take care of the kids, he used the opportunity to catch up on some of the sleep he had been missing over the last years.

She wasn't quite done thinking that, when he came down the stairs, yawning.

"Mornin'" he greeted.

"Morning, honey. Why are you up already, you said you wanted to sleep in?"

He stepped to her and gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek. "I thought we two could have breakfast together.

"Hmm, good idea."

………….

"What? You forced them to have coffee together? Rach, that's meddling."

"No, it's common sense. Those two… they shouldn't be divorced, they're meant to be together. I mean, do you remember what you said at their wedding? I think it's still true."

"That may be right, but… you know there's a lot more to a successful marriage than eternal love. I don't think love is their problem."

"Still, I… I always believed in them. I feel so horrible that I couldn't be there for them during that time, maybe… maybe if I had had the chance to talk to her…"

"Do you think you could've prevented them from getting divorced?"

"I don't know. I just think if there would've been someone telling them to give their marriage a chance, how to work on their problems… maybe they just needed someone to tell them not to give up."

"Mon always said that to me."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, everyone kept telling me I should leave you. For my sake, for the kids' sake. Like I said I didn't want to but sometimes I thought I was an idiot for still having hope. But Mon, she always told me I did the right thing, she always said how she thinks that we two belong together, that if we were to get a divorce, she would lose her belief in love once and for all."

"See, Joey. That is what I should've done for them."

"Rach, but in the end, it's their marriage. And with us… if you had kept drinking, if we had never talked about what really happened two years ago, maybe I would've left someday… maybe I would've reached my breaking point. Who knows? In the end it wasn't Monica who turned things around, it was us."

"I didn't do more than Mon did for us. I told them they should talk, really talk. I told them I believe in them."

"You think they're gonna get back together?"

"I don't know. From what Mon told me, they hurt each other pretty badly."

"But you're right, I still believe in them, too."

"So… do you have any plans for today?"

"If you don't mind being alone for a while, I wanted to work out for an hour or so, is that okay?"

"Sure, go ahead, I'll clean up the kitchen and then I have to… plan a party."

"A party? What party?"

"You know, someone's got a birthday around here in two months and… I still haven't even started."

"Ooh please, Rach, it's my thirty ninth birthday, that's no occasion for a party. It's devastating."

"Oh come on, what's the big deal, you can be proud of your thirty nine years, you've accomplished a lot."

"If you see it that way…"

"That's the only way to see it. So, go on, do something for those packs of steel," she grinned, playfully pinching his upper arms.

………

Rachel had cleaned the kitchen only perfunctorily. Marcia would come and clean in half an hour anyway and – generous as she was – she wanted to leave her something to do. Marcia had a lot less to do lately after all.

She sat down with the phone and her phone book, intending to call the caterer, when it occurred to her that she hadn't even asked Joey yet whom he wanted to invite to his birthday. Family and friends were a given, but since this party might be a good opportunity to brush up on their social life, she thought they should make it a bit bigger than usual.

Since there was no other way than to talk with him about it, she went to the gym, intending to ask him.

When she rounded the corner she heard heavy breathing and it made her stop dead in her tracks. If working out had been Joey's way of substituting sex, watching him working out had been hers.

As she had done during the last months, she carefully crept to the door, peaking around the corner. 'Mamma mia, here I go again' she thought wryly when she realized that a sudden rush of arousal had made her forget the reason she had been coming down here in the first place.

Joey wore black shorts and a black t-shirt that was completely drenched and stuck to his body. His brows were knitted in concentration while he lay on a bench, pushing what seemed like very heavy weights. With a panting breath he pushed the weight up a last time and put it into its fixture. Then he sat up and tried to catch his breath.

Another almost overwhelming rush of excitement went through her at the thought that she didn't need to stay at the door any more, watching him in secrecy. Now she could just go to him, maybe kiss him, maybe run her hands over his sweaty body…

She took a shuddering breath and stepped into the room, but she couldn't figure out what to say, her throat was dry as the desert and her heart hammered so wildly in her chest, she was sure even Joey could hear it.

When he noticed her he smiled and pointed to a spot behind her. "Could you hand me the towel, please?"

She nodded and turned around slowly, picking up the towel and walking to him.

When he reached for it, she pulled it away again a bit, just enough to make him understand that she had her reasons for keeping it. He let his hand sink slowly and looked up at her expectantly, curious even.

Carefully she started to dab his forehead, his face. He closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed hard. When he opened his eyes again, they were blazing with passion. She froze for a split second when she became aware of something that hadn't occurred to her before.

Everything they felt for each other, the love, the desire, the passion, had been dammed up for two years. Once the dam broke, there would be no taking it slow.

She reached around to the back of his neck, wiping away the beads of sweat his workout had left, then she moved to the front again, only to stop at the neckline of his shirt.

She put the towel away and reached for the hem of his shirt. He obediently lifted his arms and let her pull the shirt over his head. She picked up the towel again and ran it over his back and then over his chest, almost shaking with need by now.

Suddenly he put his hand over hers, stilling her movements. She bent down to him, trembling, lightly touching her lips to his. The dam began to crack. Mirroring their first kiss, she pulled back a bit, waiting for him to follow. With a quick movement he put his hand behind her neck and crushed his mouth to hers. The towel slipped from her hand and she sank to the bench, into his waiting arms.

The dam broke. The flood drowned them in bottled up feelings and almost forgotten sensations. Powerless against the heavy undertow of desire, they gave into it without a fight.

They didn't bother with preliminaries, there was no need for teasing and arousing, the only thing they really wanted, really needed right now was to resolve the tension that seemed to have built up between them for an eternity. With their mouths fused together in a never ending kiss, they got rid of the rest of their clothes.

When she finally sunk down onto him, it felt like waking up from a bad dream, like finally finding back to what her life was supposed to be, like getting back what had been hers.

They moaned each other's names over and over again. Sometimes it sounded like a plea, sometimes like a prayer. And sometimes it sounded like a thank you.

………..

An hour later, they lay on the yoga mat in the gym, sweaty and out of breath; happier than they had been for far too long. They had moved to the mat because after the first time, Joey had wanted to take his turn to kiss her and touch her – everywhere.

Rachel had rested her head on his chest and was content listening to his heartbeat returning to its steady, reassuring rhythm. She remembered how much she loved falling asleep like this. But now, for the first time in weeks, she wasn't really tired.

"What is it about me working out that fascinates you so much?" Joey suddenly asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I know that you were watching me. Not just today, also… before."

"You knew that?" she asked slightly embarrassed. "Must've been weird for you."

"No, it wasn't. Only back then I always hoped you wouldn't try to do something."

"I knew you hadn't wanted me to."

"Although, in retrospect, I wonder why it never occurred to me, that if my theory had been right, you wouldn't have done that. I never asked myself why you still wanted me."

"I never stopped wanting you. Even after the hospital. It was just that…"

He pulled her to him tightly and gently kissed the side of her face. "I know Rach, I know."

They fell silent for a while, until Joey tried to lighten the mood again.

"You didn't answer my question, though. What is it about me working out that turns you on so much?"

This time she chuckled and lifted her head to grin at him. "You can't figure this out by yourself?"

"No, that's why I asked."

She chuckled a bit more and gave him a kiss.

"You're stalling," he complained with a beaming smile after she pulled back.

"Oh come on, it's so obvious," she said. "The half nakedness, the sweat, the heavy breathing, flexing muscles all around … it's like watching porn."

"So that was what you were doing?"

"Yeah, sadly enough, that was what I was doing."

"Just for the record, I'm glad you tried something today. If that had kept going on, I would've been ready to apply for 'Mr. Universe' in a few months."

"Just for the record, I'm glad I did, too. _And_ you look incredible _and _you'll always be _my_ Mr. Universe."

"I love you."

"Love you too."

…………..

His wandering hand came to a rest on her belly. She put hers over it and held it in place. Her eyes found his and the grief he saw there, the bottomless sadness made his breath hitch in his chest. Tears swam in her eyes and it occurred to him that they still hadn't talked about that, never tried to make their peace with it.

"I would've loved to," he whispered, watching a single tear rolling down her face. "Knowing it can't happen again makes me as sad as you. But it doesn't make me unhappy. Because I'm happy with what we have. And if this is how it was meant to be, it's gonna be okay. It's gonna be enough."

………………….

_**Joey's birthday party**_

"Rach, something is wrong with our gym."

"What is wrong with it?"

"It compels people to have sex in it."

Rachel chuckled, blushing a bit. "Yeah, I know and I distinctly remember telling you why."

"Oh, I'm not talking about us."

The color drained out of Rachel's face and she spun around quickly, almost dropping the cake. "Who has sex in our gym?"

"Chandler and Monica."

"WHAT?"

"I'm telling ya, I'm as surprised as you are. I was going down there, wanting to get the melon juice and there they were, going at it on the yoga mat."

"Please remind me to buy a new yoga mat.…God, I didn't even know… did you know?"

"No. I mean, I knew that they've met a few times since you forced them to have coffee together, but I had no idea that they're… there."

Rachel started to giggle. Seeing Joey grin made her giggle some more and soon enough they were laughing so hard, they could barely breathe.

"What's the merriment about?" a voice from the door startled them.

It was Chandler, holding hands with Monica, both of them with red faces and slightly disarranged clothes.

"You know…" Rachel wheezed between giggles, "Joey and I might have had sex on it a few times, but you can have that yoga mat."

Joey successfully fought down another bout of hysterics and went to Chandler who made a pained and slightly grossed out face.

"I'm sorry, man, we're not laughing at you, we're just so happy for you guys. I mean, we wish you'd done it somewhere else, but hey…" he grinned lewdly before continuing, "… my yoga mat is your yoga mat, buddy."

Rachel, who just had gotten a grip, went into another laughing fit.

"Just out of curiosity, are we ever gonna hear the end of that?"

"I'm sorry Mon, it's like Joey said, we're really happy for you. But no-one forced you to do it in our gym so I'm afraid it's gonna be a while before we can let that go."

"Hey, you two did it once in our laundry room."

"Yeah…" Rachel sighed at the memory. When she looked over at Joey, she saw that he remembered it too.

"You know, doing it on a washer while it's spin-drying? You definitely have to try that."

"Please, Joe… too much information," Chandler frowned.

"Chandler, which of the two of us got the washer in the divorce?"

"I'm afraid I did. Thank God I don't do my own laundry any more."

"Okay, change of topic. We want to know what happened. How did you guys get together again?"

"Maybe you should ask your wife. She made us spend time together and then we talked… about all sorts of stuff and we found stuff out and one thing led to another and then stuff happened…"

Rachel frowned deeply. "Hmm… informative." Then she turned to Monica. "Mon, why don't you tell me the story?"

Joey sighed with fake exasperation. "Rach, Chandler just told everything there is to know."

"You know what, honey? You guys go and talk about 'guy _stuff'_, I'll go and talk with Monica."

She eloquently took Monica by the arm and headed out of the kitchen. While walking past Joey, he took the chance to playfully slap her behind.

"Hey…" she turned around, feigning being insulted before grinning widely.

"You know…" he purred while stepping closer to her, looking like the cat that ate the canary, "… guy stuff."

They gave each other a short kiss and then the girls left the kitchen.

"How do you do that?" Chandler asked when Joey turned to him again, still grinning.

"Do what?"

"That easiness between you two, the laughter and the teasing… the slapping… I mean, I always thought I was a funny guy, but you… you make marriage seem easy… and fun."

"Dude, where have you been the last two years?"

"Yeah, that. But you even pulled through that."

"Do you know the AA's serenity prayer?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Rachel told me after her first AA meeting. It goes like this: God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference."

"How does that relate to what I was asking you?"

"You have to enjoy the things that are good in life, not mourning over stuff you can't have or can't change, like your past. It's what Rach and I are trying to do. It takes a bit of an effort, but it's worth it. And you and Monica… I think you guys could be deliriously happy if you would both accept what you cannot change."

"I think I see what you mean."

…………….

_**Engagement**_

"Wow, you are getting married again, I'm so happy for you. This is so… it's like a dream."

"Yeah, congratulations, dude. So, do you have a date yet… or a minister?"

"Wedding's gonna be in five months. We haven't decided about the minister yet, but if you wanna do it…"

"Hey, are you kidding? Of course I want to do it!"

"Monica, are you kidding? Five months? Who can plan a wedding in five months?"

"Rachel, it's not gonna be a huge wedding. We already had that. This is about us deciding to live our lives together again because we never stopped being in love with one another. It's celebrating our second chance."

"That is nice. Suddenly I wish I could have a second wedding. Not that I wanted to be divorced, God no, but…"

"… celebrating our second chance sounds really good."

"You know, some people do renew their vows on occasion. You go in front of a minister, say your vows and it's like your marriage is renewed. Most people do that on anniversaries but with you guys…"

"Would it be weird if we did that on your wedding?"

"No, absolutely not. I mean, if it hadn't been for you and Joey, I don't think we would be together again. So if you want to do that…"

"Just a second," Joey said, suddenly very serious, and he dropped down on one knee in front of Rachel and took her hands in his, "Rachel, I love you so very much and I'm so happy you are my wife. Do you want to renew our marriage?"

Rachel smiled a big smile while tears swam in her eyes. "Yes, of course I want that, Joey. I would be happy to tell everyone how much it means to me to be married to you."

"Although in this case, I think we have to look for a new minister."

"As long as I can be the best man, I've got nothing against that."

…………..

"All right Mon, we're here, wedding planning can start. What do we do about the guys? Should I send them and the kids down to the coffeehouse?"

"No, um, we've gotta tell you something. It's about the wedding. Chandler and I decided that we won't have any alcohol at the wedding. For anyone."

"Monica, it's not that I don't appreciate this, but I promise, I can handle being around people drinking alcohol. Just a week ago, Joey and I were at that premiere party and… "

"Look, it's not just you. But let's count, the maid of honor is an alcoholic, the best man gets nauseous around alcohol, the groom wants to cut back on his drinking and the bride… " Monica made a meaningful pause, looking around with a wide smile, "… is pregnant."

Everyone went still for a few seconds and then she looked into a sea of wide smiles and bright eyes.

"Oh my God," Joey beamed delighted. "Is that true? I knew Chandler could do it!"

That got him a swat against the shoulder from Rachel, but Chandler was far too happy to even consider being insulted. He hugged his friend while Rachel and Phoebe huddled together with Monica.

Rachel seemed to be so happy, she was in tears. Even Phoebe's eyes were conspicuously bright.

"How did that happen Monica? I think you can't have babies any more?" Phoebe asked the expected question.

"Yeah, it's like a miracle. Somehow my fertility came back and we just seized the moment. Maybe my body had gone on a strike because I had had the impression that Chandler didn't want children. When we met again in the clinic… when Rachel made us talk… somehow, it all came back."

Phoebe smiled a knowing, secretive smile but refrained from saying anything. Chandler saw that Joey noticed that too, but he made a face as if whatever Phoebe was thinking, it was unlikely he would agree with it.

Rachel was still in tears.

"Rachel, you okay?"

That got her the attention of everyone; even Monica became serious again when she saw Rachel. Joey stepped to her and enclosed her in a tight embrace. But just a few moments later Rachel pulled back, smiled at him thankfully and turned to Monica.

"God Monica, I'm so selfish. You never made such a fuss when I was telling you I was pregnant. And I am… I really am happy for you."

_Wedding_

Five months later, Monica and Chandler are getting married again

Joey and Rachel use the occasion to renew their wedding vows

…………..

"Joey, eight years ago we gave each other a promise. To love and protect each other in good and in bad times, till death parts us. Back then, I didn't really know the meaning of those words. But you showed me. You were with me through everything, through my happiest times and through my darkest. Wherever I was, I could always count on you being right beside me. And I know that I want no one else but you beside me for the rest of my life."

"Rachel, I always knew you were a brave and strong woman. That's one of the many reasons I fell in love with you, one of the reasons I wanted to spend my life with you. But during our marriage you showed more strength, more bravery than I've ever seen. You fought against grief and guilt, against sickness and despair. You fought something a lot of people lose against. You claimed back what was rightfully yours. If you want to, I will be the happiest man on earth knowing I can go through the rest of my life with you on my side."

…………………..

_**someone unexpected**_

Phoebe had left the party without saying goodbye to anyone. Something told her it was her time to go. The psychic she had been talking to had been very clear about this.

"When the curse is lifted, when everything is how you think it is supposed to be, then you have to let go of something that is most precious to you, you have to leave your life behind."

And now, everything seemed to be perfect, the way it was supposed to be. Seeing them being so happy, so in love had almost made her cry. It could've been like this all the time if it hadn't been for her. But they had got back to each other, back to their lives.

Sometimes, when she had doubts, she thought that maybe… just maybe, they would've found their way back to one another on their own. That maybe it wasn't a curse, just some of the detours life takes sometimes. But what if it wasn't? Even if she had her doubts, she was determined to hold up her end of the bargain. Her life wasn't worth jeopardizing her friends' happiness for.

She had never imagined ending her life the way her mother had. It had scared her, but even back then she hadn't needed to think about that twice. Of course she hadn't told anyone, they wouldn't have believed her anyway and would've tried to talk her out of it.

She knew how she would do it. Her old contacts had given her the opportunity to purchase a gun that she had hidden under the floorboards of her apartment. There was only one thing she wanted to do. Say goodbye to Ross. The one person she couldn't save any more.

As so often over the last three years, she stood at his grave, looking at the tombstone that read, 'Beloved son, brother, father and friend.' She laid the flowers she had brought with her down on the grass.

When she got up a weird sense of foreboding swept through her, like something huge was going to happen next. She shook her head and chalked it up to being scared of what she was about to do. Silently she said her goodbye, silently she said how sorry she was for the millionths time.

"It's a pity he died so young, isn't it?"

The softly spoken words made her freeze on the spot. The voice had a distinct British accent but she would've recognized it everywhere.

"Ross?" she asked while spinning around.

There he was. Clad in worn jeans, a black long sleeved sweater that looked like it had seen better times, three day stubble on his face and his long hair pulled back into a ponytail. But it was him.

"Haven't heard that name in a while."

Her knees gave way under her and the last thing she heard before her senses gave up was, "Pheebs…".

…

When she woke up again, there was blinding brightness. Then a hand shielded her eyes from the sun and she tried to find out where she was.

Obviously, she was lying on a bench of some sorts, really uncomfortable. She sat up slowly and immediately discovered that she hadn't had a dream before, he was still there, whoever he really was.

"You okay, Phoebe?"

"I should ask you that, Mister 'I've been dead and buried for three years'."

"I'm sorry I freaked you out. But I couldn't think of anyone else who would be even remotely able to handle this."

"And you picked me? You know that I believe you're a ghost, do you?"

"Would a ghost have been able to carry you to this bench?"

Phoebe thought about that for a while. "Some can… All right, all right, so you're not a ghost. You know what, I'm not gonna ask you any questions. You know what I want to know and you're gonna tell me or I will stand up and go."

"All right, I'll tell you. The heart attack I had after our fight wasn't real. As was the doctor diagnosing my death. It was a set up. I wanted out. My life seemed to be like a giant joke and I wanted another chance. I went to England and started work as a janitor in the London Museum of Natural History. There I started to draw a few scenes illustrating the life of the dinosaurs. I hung them up on the walls around the back entrance. One day a crew from BBC visited the museum for research on their newest dinosaur documentation and they hired me. Uhm… and over those three years I tried to keep up to date with what went on with you guys. I know about most of the stuff. Mon's divorce, yours, Rachel's miscarriage…"

"You knew about the miscarriage? Even Joey didn't know that until a year ago."

"I knew someone from the hospital, they pulled her file. I had no idea she had kept it a secret, though."

""Ross, this is the most horrible thing I've ever heard. Did you even think about what you did to everyone? To us, to your family… to Ben?"

"But, Pheebs, can't you see that I was stuck? I had to watch the love of my life marrying my best friend, being happy with him, having kids with him. My career was a dead end. I had nothing to show for myself except three divorces and a kid raised by my lesbian ex-wife and her partner."

"You could've gone to England without faking your death, without making dozens of people unhappy."

"It wouldn't have been the same. I would've still been Ross and I started to hate that guy, he was a loser."

"So who are you?"

"Ian Shepard. Conceptual artist at BBC entertainment. Hobby paleontologist, quite popular with the ladies. Happy."

"Then why did you come back?"

"I had a feeling I had to. It's like you said, I left too many things in a way I shouldn't have."

Phoebe shook her head. She couldn't believe any of this. So lifting the curse had brought Ross back, too? This was too weird even for her. It made sense in a totally screwed up way, but it was still creepy.

"So you want to see everyone again?"

"Yeah, kind of. I have no idea how to do that, though. I think they're gonna be mad at me."

"They will be."

"I was hoping you could help me with this. I know you're mad, too… but… "

In this moment Phoebe realized that she probably had to stick around for a while longer, even if it was just to help Ross with what he intended to do.

"What do you think I should do?"

"I thought I can't just show up in the coffeehouse saying 'Hi, long time no see'. Maybe you can… prepare them for my appearance, ask them if they… even wanna see me."

"What if not?"

"Then I'll go back without seeing them. But at least I would've tried."

She didn't say anything to this for the longest time. She couldn't even believe she was intending to do this at all.

"Were you at the wedding?" she asked suddenly, remembering the weird feeling she had had all day long.

"Yeah, I snuck through the back door and hid behind the flower arrangements most of the time."

"Did you see Joey and Rachel?"

"Yeah. It was good I did. It hurt so much seeing them getting married the first time, I was so jealous. I thought he didn't deserve her, I thought she should be with me. But today… I realized how good they are for each other. What he went through with her… I can't see me going through two years of so much misery. If anyone ever deserved her, it's him. I finally understood that today."

"What about Monica?"

"I hadn't known their marriage was in that much trouble. I knew they had a few problems adjusting to Chandler being this big, famous author, but I always thought that if anyone could handle that, it's them. I didn't see your divorce coming either. David always was the love of your life."

"As you can see, that doesn't mean anything. It didn't for you and Rachel; it totally didn't for me and David."

"Do you have anyone new?"

"No."

She swallowed the part about her not dating any more because she intended to put a bullet in her brain.

"When do you think we should tell them?"

"Today."

"What? At their wedding?"

"Yeah, I think it's the perfect occasion for coming back from the dead."

…………………

_**More surprises**_

"So, what is it you want to tell us, Pheebs that can't wait until after the wedding? Is somebody pregnant again? I mean, besides myself."

Rachel flinched visibly and Monica wondered if she would ever get over the pain of never being able to have a baby again. If she was anything like her, she wouldn't.

Joey put his arms around Rachel reassuringly, whispering something in her ear that made her smile brightly.

"It's okay, Mon," she said, still smiling, "We hadn't wanted to tell you because we haven't known it that long ourselves, but yes, I'm pregnant again. And I know it's a risk, especially with me being an alcoholic, but the doctors say everything is all right. We hadn't planned it, it just happened. I was told I can't get pregnant again, so we didn't use anything but… I want this baby so bad. We both do."

Chandler was the first to recover. "Well, I've gotta say I wasn't that surprised the first time. Congratulations."

And then, just like in old times, they all huddled together in a big group hug. At least, almost like in old times, because there was someone still missing. Someone who Phoebe knew was standing only fifty feet away, probably seeing everything.

"While I am totally happy for you guys, this time I didn't know about that and it wasn't what I was gonna tell you."

"So what is it?"

"Remember how we always wondered why Ross didn't have an open casket? Why they claimed it was his wish?"

"Phoebe I hope you're going somewhere with this because right now, that's not the topic I want to talk about."

"My point is, he hadn't had an open casket because in this case we would've seen that he wasn't in it."

"Well, someone was, because that thing sure as hell wasn't empty," Chandler quipped and Joey nodded confirming.

Phoebe could see Monica taking a shuddering breath at the memory of her brother's casket being carried to his gravesite.

"I know this sounds like a real stupid and cruel joke, but Ross wasn't in that casket because he isn't dead. He's alive and he wants to see you again but he doesn't know how you would react so he asked me to tell you first and ask you if you want to see him."

Chandler chuckled uncomfortably. "Okay Pheebs, whatever you say."

"I'm telling the truth, I can go get him in a minute if you don't believe me."

"Pheebs," Joey started in a soothing voice she knew he used with his children when he tried to explain something to them, "Ross is dead. And it's not your fault, regardless of what you believe. And it wasn't a curse either. You can't bring him back by lifting that curse. I wish you could, but we all have accepted that he's gone."

Phoebe ripped her hand out of Joey's and stormed away angrily. When she came back, she had someone in tow nobody recognized at first.

"Hi guys, long time no see."

………………

No one said anything.

After a while, Ross started telling what had happened, trying to explain his reasons, talking a bit about his new life.

Then Rachel huddled a bit closer to Joey and he pulled her into a tight embrace, comfortingly kissing the top of her head.

"Take me home, Joey. I want to go home."

"Okay baby, but… what about him?"

Rachel looked at Ross and he felt as if he was pierced with an icicle. He realized that if he had been coming here for redemption, he surely wouldn't get it from her.

"Ross is dead, Joey. He died three years ago. I had the hardest time getting over his death, because I loved him. He was a really great guy. This guy… I don't even know who he is. And to be honest, I don't want to."

With that she stood up resolutely and turned to her husband again. "We'll meet at the car." And then she was gone.

Joey got up too, trying to follow her. Ross grabbed his arm when he passed him.

"Joey, wait…"

Joey turned his head slowly, pointedly looking at where Ross's hand was grabbing his sleeve, which prompted Ross to let go of his arm. Then he looked at him directly and although his gaze wasn't as cold as Rachel's, it wasn't forgiving either.

"You know what… Ian? This is my wife and I've gotta go with her. And you know what else? She's right."

Icy silence fell over the room again after Joey and Rachel had left.

"Did Mom and Dad see you?" Monica finally asked, in a shaking voice that betrayed the emotions Monica was trying so hard to control.

"No, I wanted to ask you if I should…"

"Please don't!" Monica interrupted him, "Dad would… his heart… I don't think he would be able to handle this. Mom… maybe, but… God! I can't believe you did this."

Chandler gingerly wrapped his arms around her when she started to dissolve into tears.

"Ross… Ian… whatever, I think it's best if you leave now. We'll talk to Phoebe if we… just… please go."

"Chandler," Ross tried again, "I thought at least you would understand…"

"Understand what? That you felt the need to hurt everyone who ever cared about you because you were unhappy with your life? Were you sitting somewhere, laughing at us while we cried our eyes out at your funeral?"

"No Chandler, of course not. Believe me, if there had been any other way…"

"Just go, please. Let us at least think about this, okay?"

………………

Rachel's hands were shaking. While driving home, Joey watched her out of the corner of his eye and he saw her fiddling with her purse and then he noticed that she wasn't just fidgeting nervously, she was shaking. It was one of those moments the doctor at the clinic hat warned him about. It was one of those moments when the ice on which she was walking became dangerously thin.

"Recovery doesn't take care of itself, no matter how old it is," was one of the sayings Rachel had brought home from her AA meetings.

While he was driving the car into the garage, Rachel went into the house, leaving Joey even more worried. He prayed that he wouldn't find her drinking cough medicine or her own perfume. Sadly enough, he knew almost every substance in his house that contained even a small percentage of alcohol.

He called for her the second he set foot in the house and was more than relieved to hear her answer, although her voice sounded small and sad. She was sitting on Tyler's bed, clutching one of his teddies to her.

"I wish they were here."

He sat down beside her and put his hand on her lower belly.

"This one is."

She smiled at him happily and put her hand above his. "Yeah, I still can't believe it. It's like… a miracle."

"I've seen a lot of them over the last year. Not the least of them half an hour ago."

"Joey, please…"

"Rach, we've gotta talk about this."

"Why?"

He took her other hand by its wrist and held it in front of her face.

"That's why."

When she sighed defeated he took her shaking hand and gently kissed her fingertips.

"You know what I was thinking when I first saw him standing there?" he asked her.

"No, what?"

"I thought, 'Now I need a drink'."

Rachel chuckled mirthlessly. "Cute Joey, really. But you're right, that's what I was thinking. That's the reason I wanted to get out of there as fast as possible."

"I know."

"This is just… so bizarre. It's so unlike him. And have you seen that stupid ponytail?"

"From what I've gathered he's an artist now, they do stuff like that. Although I was more ticked off by the accent."

"Yeah, wasn't that just ridiculous? I mean he is over there for what, three years? And now he's British all of a sudden?"

"Well, he's Ian." Joey said, mimicking Ross's accent which made Rachel laugh out loud.

"He could choose his own name and all he came up with was 'Ian'?"

"And he's dating a lot. I mean, why did he think that was necessary information? 'Hi, I'm not dead but I'm Ian now, and just so you know, I'm seeing a lot of women.' What was that about?"

"He probably wanted to say that he is now England's Joey Tribbiani."

"If he were, he would have been happily married for seven years, with two kids and a third one on the way."

"Hey, you're right. Up until now it never occurred to me that I deprived the female population of the States of one Joey Tribbiani."

"I'm sure they have a new one."

"Probably."

"So, what do we do about 'Ian'?"

Rachel lifted her hand and looked at her shaking fingers. It wasn't as bad as before, but she knew she was still upset. She realized she had to deal with this, one way or another.

As always, Joey was right.

"Looks like we can't pretend it didn't happen, can we?"

"That's how it looks."

"I think we should talk to Mon and Chandler tomorrow. See what they think."

"All right. So… what do we do now?"

"Hmm… let's see, you promised me a second wedding night. That was the reason my mother took the children with her after the wedding."

"Right. So…" Joey leaped to his feet and tugged at her hand until she stood up. Then he swept her into his arms and carried her towards their bedroom.

………………..

"It wasn't really his decision, he came back because I lifted the curse."

"Pheebs, there is no curse. You have been torturing yourself with that idea for a year now. There is a logical explanation for everything that had happened."

"Yeah, fate."

"Pheebs, I'm not gonna accept that this is fate, or some curse that was somehow miraculously lifted. I refuse to belittle what Rachel has achieved by chalking it up to a lifted curse. I saw her going through detox and withdrawal symptoms, I watched her fight against her illness and I saw her doing this. All. By. Herself. I saw Mon and Chandler working on their relationship, and I know that we worked on ours. This isn't fate, this is people taking fate into their own hands."

"I don't mean to tell you that it would have happened whether or not you had been fighting for it, but don't you think there are a few things that don't make sense? Magically restored fertility? Miraculously regenerating tissue?"

"That could be lucky circumstances."

"Than what about the accumulation of unlucky circumstances that led us into this mess?"

"Coincidence. Shit happens. We're not the only people who stuff like that is happening to. We're not the only ones managing to get out of hopeless situations. It's life."

"What about the fact that I knew all this long before it happened?"

"I never doubted that you have a gift. This isn't the first time you predicted stuff. I don't deny it's creepy, I'm not saying it didn't freak me out. I'm just saying I won't let you take the blame for what happened. Because nothing of this is your fault, you just… somehow… saw that it could happen."

"It did happen."

"Not all of it. Or you would be Mrs. Tribbiani now."

"That might have been fun."

"Don't get me wrong Pheebs, but I don't think it would've."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. So, what about Ross?"

"Okay, I talk to them, I mean, it's kinda my fault he wanted out. I can even understand him a little bit. But… that he hurt us, that he hurt Rachel… I can't just forgive this."

"No one says you have to. But I think if we send him back now as if he doesn't exist, we will be sorry some day. It's not who we are. Who we used to be."

……………….

_**Talk with Ross**_

………………

(afterwards)

Joey walked up behind Rachel who stood motionless on the patio, looking unseeing into the night sky. He put his arms around her shoulders and kissed the back of her neck.

"Ally and Tyler fell into their bed like stones. They slept before I could say Good Night."

Rachel chuckled a bit but didn't say anything.

"You okay, baby?" Joey asked after a while, slightly worried.

She nodded mutely. "Yeah, but… it was a strange day."

"He's leaving tomorrow in the afternoon. Phoebe called and asked if we're gonna be at the airport."

"Would it be horrible to say I don't want to?"

"I've already told her no. I don't want to and I had a feeling you wouldn't want to as well."

"It's like…"

"…saying goodbye to him again."

Again she was silent for a long time.

"Joey… do you think it's our fault that he left? Did we make him unhappy? Did we… drive him away?"

He felt that a rushed answer, the exasperated 'No, of course not' wasn't what she needed to hear right now. So he contemplated her question for a while before he replied.

"I think he wasn't unhappy about us being together, he was unhappy about not being together with you. And he was unhappy with himself."

"Do you think he's happy with who he is now?"

"It's hard to say, I barely had time to talk to him alone, the way we used to talk. But he told me he always envied me for the way I led my life – before we got together. He said it might be that he always wanted that kind of life."

"I always thought he wanted this whole suburban dream. Wife, kids, house, white picket fence… by the way, we have to repaint ours next summer."

"Sounds like I have the life we thought Ross always wanted."

"Did you not want it?"

"I never thought I wanted it until I had it. Now… I can't see myself being happier with anything else."

_**Second chances**_

Phoebe knocked at the door to Ross's hotel room, hoping he was still there. He had mentioned something about his flight going today, but she didn't know when exactly.

He opened and smiled at her brightly.

"Hey Pheebs, come in."

She followed him into the room where she found him packing.

"Should I get you the shampoo bottles from the bathroom?" she asked with a grin.

"No," Ross answered, "taking all this hotel stuff is a Ross thing. I don't do that."

"It seems a bit schizophrenic to make these differences between Ross and Ian."

"It helps to adjust. Besides, I've been Ross for the last week and even though I kinda liked it better than I remembered, I'd rather be Ian again."

"So how did it go with Ben?"

"It looked like it wouldn't go at all because Carol didn't want me to see him. Susan talked her into it. Ben found it cool to have his dad come back from the dead."

"And your parents?"

"My parents… they were the only ones not mad at me, they were just so happy to see me again."

"Don't you think Monica took the heat for that?"

"Yeah, maybe… maybe she did."

………

"Why don't you come with me Pheebs? I think it could be fun, I would love to have you around, we always had a good time together. I mean, I don't want to step on your toes here, but… what is really holding you here?"

"Everything. I mean, I have my family here, my friends, my job."

"Phoebe, a sister who you hate, a brother and friends who are far too busy raising children and living their happy lives with their spouses to spend time with you? An underpaid job you don't even like? Really, I don't see what's holding you back."

"It's not that simple. Going to England would mean leaving my whole life behind."

Phoebe flinched after she heard herself say those words. That was what she was supposed to do. No one had wanted her to kill herself. She just had to let go of what was holding her back. She was supposed to give herself a second chance, just like everyone else had.

Maybe what she had said ten years ago had been a curse, maybe not.

Maybe Joey was right. Maybe this was just life. And in life – more often than one might think – you are sometimes given a second chance. And it is always up to yourself to take it.

THE END


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